


A Stretch of Silence

by Moon_Rose (Moonrose91)



Series: The Adventures of a Mute Bilbo (A Very Long Prompt Fill Series) [1]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Book Spoilers, Gen, Movie Spoilers, Mute Bilbo, Mutism, PTSD, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 35,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moon_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Bilbo had been born mute?</p><p>(Prompt fill)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ingenious_spark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenious_spark/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a prompt fill, thus why it is here, under this pseud and not my main one.
> 
> Yes, I am working on updates for everything, just hold your horses. Or ponies, as the case may be.
> 
> _For some reason I really want to see how the story would have turned out had Bilbo been mute from birth. But not deaf! That's important._
> 
> _Like I seriously want to see him using some sort of signed language, maybe based off of iglishmek? 'Cause you know Belladonna Took ain't gonna leave her baby boy just unable to communicate at all, right?_
> 
> _Cookies if Gandalf is the only one who can understand him at first._
> 
> _Even more cookies if Bilbo and Bifur strike up a weird sort of friendship based on general inability to communicate, and Bifur ends up being the second person to figure out how hobbit signed language works._
> 
> _Any pairing or gen is fine, except no incest or noncon/dubcon, please._
> 
> http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/1990.html?thread=1830342#t1830342
> 
> (That the link)
> 
> Also, this is my third fanfic foray into anything Tolkien.
> 
> Third.
> 
> I am very proud of myself.

No one knew what to expect when Belladonna's son was born with a soft whisper of a cry.  
  
They do not know what to say when other Hobbit children are talking, Bilbo Baggins sits at her feet and learns hand signs that seem to be a mix of something only seen in the Rangers that occasionally patrol near their borders and something else.  
  
They do not know where she learned it, but soon Bilbo, whose voice could not be raised, that only his breathing could be heard, was with the others his age and signed with eagerness, teaching his cousins all that his mother had taught him. They caught on eagerly and they laughed, though Bilbo could only smile and there were brief snatches of his mouth opening in soundless laughter.  
  
He was adventurous and bright and they all worried about the new Baggins.  
  
But then his father died, and he stopped laughing soundlessly.  
  
His mother died after he reached his majority and, within the year, became a respectable Hobbit.  
  
And the people of the Shire wouldn't want it any other way.  
  
And then a Wizard came and ruined it.


	2. A Wizard

Bilbo let out a tiny cough as smoke and sparks hit his nose and he opened his eyes to discover an old man outside his gate.  
  
Not any old  _Hobbit_ , of course, but one of the tall folk, dressed all in gray and leaning on his staff, a tall hat on his head and with a beard long enough that he could have tucked it into his belt, were he so inclined.  
  
Bilbo bit at his pipe worriedly at this stranger ( _but he’s not, is he Bilbo?_  a voice asks in his mother’s voice, and oh, how that hurts) who seemed to be staring intently at him and he gives his sign for ‘good morning’, hoping that he will run off and leave him.  
  
“What do you mean by good morning?” the man, no  _Wizard_  asked and Bilbo knew who stood before him now.  
  
Gandalf, Gandalf the Gray, whom had told a young Hobbit grand stories while said Hobbit sat at his feet, and who had known his hand signals without ever having to be told what they were. Who had once tapped Bilbo’s throat and said, ‘Worry not, young Baggins-Took, for your silence might yet one day save you.’  
  
Bilbo never “said” how much hearing the name ‘Took’ used without contempt had filled him with joy in that moment, though none would dare use that tone were his grandfather in the vicinity, nor Bilbo’s own father. But if it were Belladonna, they would keep it low, and the…  
  
Bilbo cut off those thoughts and tried to pretend he did not remember Gandalf and his gentle voice, and his laugh when he found Bilbo in the woods, searching for the elves that  _must_  be there, and who had saved his life during the Fell Winter when a bite from a white wolf had gotten infected.  
  
And who set off fireworks, but that part Bilbo could barely remember, honestly.  
  
Impressive though they were, the memories of fireworks were not the memories that Bilbo nurtured in the section of the garden of his memories devoted to Gandalf, the Wizard his mother was such dear friends with.  
  
“That I have lived so long to be ‘good morninged’ by Belladonna Took’s son as if I were selling buttons at the door,” Gandalf grumbled out and Bilbo turned to stare at him.  
  
Because it  _hurt_  to hear his mother’s name, especially just spoken as ‘Took.’  
  
It smacked too much of how the other Hobbits on this end of the Shire always treated her whenever his father wasn’t around and, thus, the eight years following his death it had only gotten worse, for there was no Old Took to hear up here.  
  
But, then again, Gandalf had always loved the Took family and that’s why he turns around, raising an eyebrow and Gandalf huffed. “I dare say you would remember my name though you do not remember it is me that belongs to it. I am Gandalf and Gandalf is…me,” he continued and Bilbo tried to smile, but found he could not.  
  
Not really.  
  
Just a quirk of the lips, to be polite, but nothing more.  
So he clasps his pipe tightly in his teeth and signs about the fireworks and Gandalf looks miffed as he mutters, “Well, at least you remember  _something_  about me.”  
  
But Bilbo remembers; he remembers the way Gandalf had leaned over his arm and wrapped it cautiously, and how he had smiled at Bilbo when he awoke, free of fever and relieved, while his mother suddenly came out of nowhere and hugged him tightly before showing him the wolf fur lined coat she had made him, in honor of his kill.  
  
Bilbo just doesn’t wish to  _say_  that he does.  
  
And when Gandalf offers adventure…  
  
Bilbo shakes his head no, but his heart  _screams_  and  _begs_  him to accept.  _”Please,”_  it whispers, in a voice so like his mother’s.  
  
 _”Please, stop denying yourself.”_  
  
But with the ease of a lifetime of practice, he does.  
  
Within his mind, he chants that he does not want this, he does not want adventure, and the lies shatter when Bilbo hears Gandalf say that it would be good for him.  
  
Bilbo stares and then he signs at Gandalf, tells him that all is well, please, go away, leave him alone, and take his adventures elsewhere and Bilbo throws himself into his warm, cozy, Hobbit Hole and hides from the siren call of adventure.  
  
And his heart cries and breaks.

And here Bilbo thought his heart could not break any further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Fell Winter of the Third Age happened in the year 2911. Bilbo Baggins was born in 2890. The Brandywine River froze over and the Shire was, in fact, attacked by white wolves and Orcs. The winter was so bad that the Hobbits of the Shire would have starved to death were it not for Gandalf and the Rangers of the North giving them food. Bilbo was 21 when this happened, a tween I believe. While he was in Bag-End in the original one and never saw the fighting, in this AU, he was close enough to the river, visiting cousins, that when the wolves came, he was caught outside. The fact he was not killed is due to the fact Belladonna may or may not have hefted a war hammer, somehow, and swung it with all the viciousness that only a mother protecting her only child can possess. However, she did not kill the wolf that attacked Bilbo; that was Bilbo himself, who had picked up the habit of carrying a knife, but fell out of that habit once his mother died. After all, he would have no need of it, with the need for adventure firmly stamped out of his heart.
> 
> Seriously, I have lots of feels for the mother-son relationship between Bilbo and Belladonna, because I always felt that Bilbo became Bilbo in The Hobbit was so people would stop whispering about the Took blood influence and hissing about how a Baggins should know better than to marry a Took, and Bilbo probably started being a ‘right proper Baggins’ so they would stop saying those things about his mother. So, he firmly stomped out his desire for adventure, to leave home, and stomped on them until they were gone. And refusing to acknowledge, and closing his eyes to it, and lying to himself, over and over, that his books were enough. And when his mother died, holding on until he reached his majority so the Sackville-Baggins could not steal his inheritance from him, he focused on her things and clung tightly to the faint memories attached of the one person who had understood what he was doing and had said, simply, “Your selflessness will get you killed Bilbo.”
> 
> And…I totally did not mean for that to turn into headcanon and history lesson. I am so, so, sorry.


	3. Dwarfs

Bilbo considered going to the Green Dragon as night began to overtake the Shire, but eventually decided that being alone and lonely was better than being in _company_ and lonely.

He considered staying dressed as well, before remembering that there was really no one who would call on him unexpectedly and he might as well get ready for bed, even if he hadn’t even started on _dinner_ yet, and he wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted to or not. Very queer, for a Hobbit, and he almost just went to bed, before deciding a small dinner wouldn’t hurt and, that way, anyone who asked the next day would receive an honest answer, something Bilbo prided himself on.

He smiled a bit at that, for who would catch him in a lie?

There is no vocal tell and, even in the grandest of stories, his hand never shivers or shakes. He was sure, if he had a voice, he could weave a tale so lovely that none would want to leave its embrace.

If it were proper to do so, at any rate, he would.

He frowned a bit as he placed the plate on the table, his small appetite gone.

It would not do to waste the, small, meal he had made for himself (the Fell Winter was at the forefront of his mind, his arm aching in memory, and the thought of wasting food made him feel ill), but he did not fully wish to eat it. He sighed a bit and settled down, squeezing a lemon slice over it.

He would eat and then…

Bilbo frowned as the doorbell rang, disrupting his thoughts.

He sighed, stood up, and tightened his robe before he grabbed his, mostly empty, book of pre-written phrases, in case it was not someone who understood his hobbled together gesture language that was, as his mother put it, a strain of iglishmek mixed with some gestures from the Rangers of the North and even a few signs that Belladonna had invented herself, a complicated system that Bilbo knew better than any other language in existence.

Considering only his cousins were fluent in it, and it was unlikely that whoever was at the door was one of them, this was probably the best thing he could bring with him.

Because of _course_ the one night he just didn’t stay dressed till right before bed was the night he got unexpected visitors.

He strode to the door and opened it to reveal a Dwarf, bald with tattoos across his (her?) skull and with what Bilbo is sure is a rather impressive beard, even by Dwarf standards (and desperately trying to remember what his mother had said about that), and the Dwarf bows with a quick, “Dwalin, at your service.”

It isn’t even really a bow, just a quick dip of the head.

Bilbo immediately opens the page to that greeting and opens it with a quick bow in return.

_Bilbo Baggins, at your service._

And then Dwalin walks in.

Bilbo just barely manages not to huff quietly and shuts the door behind them, as Dwalin says that they, meaning more are coming, were promised food. “Didn’t tell me about the silence, though,” he adds, giving Bilbo an appraising look and Bilbo shows him to the kitchen, and the tiny dinner, and goes to get dressed.

He slips back into the kitchen after and Dwalin hadn’t even seemed to notice that he had slipped away and come back again. “Is there any more?” Dwalin asked and Bilbo passed a bowl of biscuits over to him, pocketing one for later, when the doorbell rang again.

Bilbo frowned, swung by his room to get his book of phrases, and headed toward the door, opening it to find a white haired Dwarf on his front porch. He flipped the pages of his book to a proper greeting and the Dwarf smiled.

“It is, isn’t it?” he questioned and stepped in, Bilbo shutting the door behind him.

He had long learned, especially with his cousins, to just go with the flow on these things.

It made life much easier and less stressful in the long run and he didn’t have time to write out questions or demands at this time. He had Dwarfs to watch and he followed them to his pantry, catching the cheese as they tossed it without a thought or consideration for the fact that it was cheese and the doorbell rang.

_Again._

Bilbo’s eyes narrowed, suspecting a trick of some sort and headed to the door, opening it to find a dark haired Dwarf with no beard to speak of staring intently at him and a blonde haired Dwarf with, again, no beard (but with a nicely braided mustache) smirking a bit, his eyes darting between the dark haired one and Bilbo.

“Fili,” the blonde greeted.

“And Kili,” the dark haired one returned, eyeing the cheese in Bilbo’s hand with some wariness.

“At your service,” they finished in stereo and bowed simultaneously, revealing matching hair clasps, before they stood, identical mischievous grins playing across their faces.

Bilbo could tell they would be worse than any Took pair that he could name, in either past or present and, he was sure, they would give any future Took pair a run for their money.

“Is this the home of Mr. Boggins?” Fili asked and Bilbo immediately moved to close the door, only to have Kili catch it.

“It’s been canceled?” he asked, in such a heart-broken way that Bilbo wished he could speak (not for the last time, he was sure) to say it was not.

His eyes were wide and almost pleading, something that Bilbo could not stand in the slightest. So, he sighed and opened the door, letting the pair in.

He had a feeling he would regret it.

Greatly.

He took their weapons, though not without glaring at Fili or, in fact, with any willingness on Bilbo’s part, and kicked Kili’s leg to get him to stop wiping his boots off on his mother’s glory box, carefully settling the weapons on top of it.

He would not drop them, for they seemed important to the pair and he focused on making sure to watch over his unexpected guests when the doorbell rang again.

His irritation was slowly mounting and, he was sure, if he had a voice, it would be raised in frustration and the demand of answers, but he had neither the time or patience to write out what he wanted to know now, and someone had promised them food and…

He opened the door to reveal a _wave_ of dwarfs and he looked up see Gandalf standing there, looking pleased.

And he signed only one thing, resigned irritation in his entire stance.

_“Gandalf.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in my grand research of everything (okay, maybe not grand, but detailed), I learned that iglishmek changes from area to area.
> 
> Basically, iglishmek is entirely regional signs and if anyone outside of that region sees them, means nothing. (Thank you Rabble for the better wording, but I couldn't find one when I was writing this Note.)
> 
> So, guess what area Belladonna learned some of it (because she is an observant Hobbit lass and she was always up for a good adventure, though she settled rather quietly, for a Took, into Bag-End)?
> 
> Yep.
> 
> Where Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur come from.
> 
> Because that was the only way any friendship (built on curious suspicion) would pop up between Bilbo and Bifur.
> 
> So, headcanon randomness.
> 
> Belladonna cobbled together a gesture language so Bilbo could have friends. She knew his cousins would otherwise find him 'boring' once the curiosity over him being mute died away and this would keep them interested as Bilbo invented short-cuts to use with them so he could quickly and easily tell them things and so they could plot pranks.
> 
> With this good fortune, and Bilbo's quick wits, while not the ring-leader, he filled the roll of that smart friend in the group of pranksters who somehow manages to keep them all from doing anything too stupid.
> 
> Also, the reason Bilbo isn't "protesting" is because, as relieving as it would be to sign rude things and snarl at them silently, he's fought too long and too hard to get people to shut up about his mother to do such a thing, even to strangers.
> 
> That and he's really polite.
> 
> (I love that about Bilbo, actually.)


	4. Thorin Oakenshield

Having a hobbit-hole filled with Dwarfs was about as relaxing as one would expect.

In that it was anything _but_.

They pilfered the pantry and Bilbo found his hands shaking so badly that Gandalf had to reach out and gently clasp them while Bilbo took deep, calming, breaths. After a time, he gave up and focused on cleaning up the remains of his pantry, of putting it together while he listened to their loud chatter and talk, not able to follow most of it, and he calmed, considerably, as it seemed to be dying down when Bilbo found that they were touching his mother’s crochet and he’s saving it because he can.

He ‘yells’ at Gandalf, demanding answers too fast and too shakily, making faint sounds of protest, though it was more like whistles of breath, not any actual formed sound, and Gandalf steps forward, carefully folding his hands over Bilbo’s. “Bilbo, I assure you, that they are on a whole an agreeable band of folk, once you get used to them,” Gandalf reassured.

Bilbo yanked his hands out of Gandalf’s and signed back, furiously, _“I don’t want to get used to them you old coot!”_

Only it wasn’t, exactly, ‘old coot’ he had used, but a much stronger word, his Took temper getting the better of him, which only made Gandalf smile at him.

Bilbo then let out a sigh and grasped his curly hair tightly in his hands when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He immediately dropped his hands and focused on…Ori, Bilbo believed.

Well, he reminded Bilbo far too much of his youngest cousin, and Bilbo gave him a small smile. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mister Baggins, but what do I do with my plate?” he asked and Bilbo nearly just took it from him when Fili appeared.

“Give it here Ori,” Fili stated and suddenly tossed it as deftly as if it were a disc with a call of, “Kili!”

Bilbo twitched as Gandalf deftly dodged and Kili carefully caught it into the kitchen.

Bilbo felt his eyes widening in worry and concern as his mother’s finest china began to fly through the air.

Followed by what they were doing and Bilbo could hear his cutlery being abused and he signed frantically at Gandalf, who was laughing merrily, but translated anyway.

“Bilbo would like you to please stop, as he fears you’ll blunt the knives,” Gandalf stated and Bilbo huffed a bit, well as much as he could, and glared at Fili, who started it, while Ori just watched in amazement.

“Oh, did you hear that lads? He says we’ll blunt the knives!” one of the Dwarfs exclaimed and Bilbo wanted to cry as they began to _sing_ about it.

Sing about it in the most horrifying manner possible, of cracking plates and how this is what he hates, and it takes Ori clinging to his arm to keep him from running in and disrupting it.

He would be protesting as he watches them, but the Took side of him, which is waking up, laughs, bright for all its silence, and wants to join in the song, for it is a catchy tune and it makes Bilbo’s Took side want to dance, for he cannot sing.

Or, at least, join in, and when the song comes to an end, Bilbo is frantic, panicked even, as he fights his way forward…only to find them laughing and applauding around a pile of clean dishes in the center of his dining room table.

He pants for a few moments and he cannot stop the small smile that spreads across his face.

It is unfamiliar and strange, having spent over a decade not smiling except out of sheer politeness, never from joy (something that had not touched his heart since his mother’s death), but it is there all the same and he looks around at the Dwarfs and signs his thank you.

He misses three of the Dwarfs start in surprise at the gesture, small though it is, by a pounding on the door.

“He’s here,” Gandalf muttered ominously and Bilbo lets out a sigh before he nods to Gandalf, immediately noticing a stew in his hearth, and leaves out a bowl with a plate and a mug, along with a spoon, for the use of the, late, thirteenth Dwarf, settling at the head of his table.

He is silent so he hears the late member of the party talking about how he got lost, twice, and Bilbo is already in the hallway by the time all the rest of the Dwarfs have practically filled his front room, appearing silently at Gandalf’s elbow, and Bilbo is very Tookishly pleased over the fact he has startled Gandalf.

“Bilbo Baggins, may I introduce the leader of our Company, Thorin Oakenshield?” Gandalf greeted and Bilbo gave a polite bow to Thorin, for all that his sense of direction leaves something to be desired, his bearing is nothing but kingly, though Bilbo has never met a king.

Thorin looks him over and Bilbo suddenly hates him with a sharp passion he has only found when facing the Sackville-Baggins.

Because Thorin looked him over and dismissed him within seconds, something that Bilbo is far too used to in the Shire.

_It is just that Took blood of his, running wild, that makes him so strange._

_Lost his voice before birth because of it, you know._

Dismissed, as if he has nothing to offer, like the Hobbit lads and lasses he tried, and failed, to court till he gave himself up into bachelorhood.

He finds himself shifting and lifting his chin and staring this _Thorin_ in the eye, because he will not be dismissed, not like that, in his own home.

“Tell me, burglar, have you done much fighting?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo raises an eyebrow, even when the thoughts of fighting bring up a freezing cold bite and the howl of wolves, white as the snow bank one leaps out of, jaws clasping down onto his arm when, days later, the orcs come with their hunting cries while he lies in bed, sick from the bite, and his mother holds the hammer she somehow wielded to save him from the wolves that tried to converge on him after he had killed the one who bit him.

“Ax or sword?” Thorin pushes and Bilbo shakes his head a bit.

 _Knife_ , he wants to answer.

But he does not.

Gandalf, it seems, wishes to speak, but Bilbo makes a rude gesture in Gandalf’s direction, small and against his hip, that has Gandalf’s eyes sparking in amusement, even as Thorin says, “He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.”

Bilbo wishes to glare, but he doesn’t.

He is silent, however, and Thorin stares at him. “A mute grocer is what you bring me Gandalf?” Thorin questioned, not even addressing Bilbo, dismissing him ever further from his mind, and Bilbo smiles then.

But it is not polite, or kind, but all teeth and sharp edges.

It is less a smile and more a showing of teeth, though not an overt display, just a small one.

It usually is one that makes the Sackville-Baggins run off when they become too pushy.

He signs something, and Gandalf smiles. “He says there is stew left over and a place waiting for you. And that is a wonderful example of Hobbit hospitality, at its finest, if I do say so myself,” the Wizard translated, correctly, with some added commentary.

He just left out what a few of the signs _meant_ and Bilbo didn’t bother to correct him.

He hadn’t disrespected Thorin, but he had used a rather…well, it was a term he used for the Thain when the Thain was getting on Bilbo’s nerves.

Thorin didn’t need to know that part, however, and Bilbo quickly busied himself with putting the dishes away, surprised when the one who only growled out in the tongue of Dwarves (the name escaped him, much to Bilbo’s shame), helped him.

He signed his thanks.

He nearly drops his mother’s china when he gets the correct response.


	5. The Siren Song of Adventure

Bilbo busied himself with making sure he had blankets enough for his unexpected guests as he would not let them just camp out when there was room enough for Bilbo to put them up, though he only had two guest rooms, which he would have to give to Gandalf and Thorin, respectively.

He wondered how they all got here and he wandered back and slipped into the nook behind Gandalf when they were all focused on Thorin, shaking his head a bit over the youth in their group. He tapped his fingers, silently, against his arm, wincing when he felt the raised scars underneath his thin shirt. He did not like the memories attached to that scar, he did not like to think about how the Horn of the Bucklanders had called across the ice and how it shook in the very marrow of Bilbo’s bones.

He dropped his hand and frowned a bit when he heard them talk about a beast. He frowned a bit and leaned forward, tapping Gandalf’s shoulder and causing the old man to jump. “Oh, Bilbo. Yes, the scourge of Erebor. If we could have a little more light,” Gandalf stated.

“The scourge would be Smaug the Terrible,” the Dwarf with no beard but a great mustache stated and Bilbo frowned a bit, standing up as he went to get the light.

 _“Smaug?”_ he signed.

“Yes, Smaug,” Gandalf answered, to which the same Dwarf began to describe a dragon.

 _“I know what a dragon is,”_ Bilbo interrupted with his gestures, but seemed to have missed most of it, which irritated him.

Where was his charcoal stick and his book?

He let out a low sigh as he came back with a candle, lighting it before he settles it, not over the map, but where it can shed more light, eyes flickering over the lettering there.

_The Lonely Mountain._

That’s where they are headed?

He listens to their talk, their speech of needing a burglar and he signs about them needing a good one.

“Yes, they will need a good one. An expert, I imagine, Bilbo,” Gandalf stated and Bilbo’s eyes snap up to him, a warning in his eyes.

“Are ya?” one of the Dwarfs ask and Bilbo’s head snaps around.

He doubts stealing things from the mathom-hall of the Brandybuck halls counted.

Or things from right under his grandfather’s nose.

He glares at Gandalf, because he can, and Gandalf chuckles a bit around his pipe.

Bilbo shook his head a bit and they insisted on accepting that as a statement that he _was_ a burglar of any sort, instead of not one at all. Of course, he firmly denies it, and they’re ready to leave him, go on this quest without him, when Gandalf fills his hobbit-hole with the shadows and darkness that comes with him uncloaking the power that he otherwise keeps tucked away and Bilbo clasps his hands tightly over his ears, gritting his teeth against the pain that erupts from it.

And with Gandalf’s demands, comes their acceptance.

He blinks in surprise when he Balin hands him the contract and he takes it, walking over a ways, his ear twitching as he hears Thorin and Gandalf speak lowly.

“I cannot guarantee his safety.”

“Understood.”

“Nor will I be responsible for his fate.”

Silence, for a moment, and then Gandalf’s whispered, “Agreed.”

Bilbo pretended like he hadn’t heard them, his lips moving to the words on the contract.

Gandalf helped them with this, for it mentioned that there would only be three meals, when permitted.

That, or someone in the Company knew Hobbits well enough for that.

His hand twitched out ‘incineration?’ and he looked up, fully expecting to have to repeat it for Gandalf when the Dwarf with no beard and a large mustache began to describe how _that_ would go.

Bilbo wondered if he had a filter.

Probably not, since he was continuing, even as Bilbo felt himself pale and he stood up.

And then shook his head ‘no’ right before he fainted.

Gandalf, at least, was kind enough to get him to a chair and Dori got him tea, which he thanked the Dwarf for.

“Are you quite finished sitting quietly?” Gandalf asked.

Bilbo shakes his head.

“Confound it all Bilbo Baggins! I remember a lad who would have loved nothing more than to go on this adventure! Who hunted the woods for elves, and nearly found them, and who managed to scare his mother when he hid away in a caravan! And when did your mother’s dishes and doilies become so important to you?” Gandalf snapped.

Bilbo set his tea to the side, hands shaking, before he signed, _“He became a Baggins of Bag-End.”_

He does not sign, ‘because my mother died, Gandalf, and with her went the last of my support here in the Shire, the last of my home. I started caring about her things, Gandalf, because after she died, all I had left of her were those things. Those things that were so unimportant while she was alive, those things that she treasured and I juggled and nearly broke, much to her laughing fear! That’s why they’re so important, Gandalf.’

He signs none of that, because he does not think he could handle letting all of that out.

He did not talk about his mother, or the Fell Winter of the Shire, or anything else that brought up too much pain because, quite simply, there was no one around to help him bleed it out.

Gandalf sighed and then settled in the chair across from him. And spoke of a many times over great grandfather who could ride a horse. Who rode to _war_ and won the battle.

And, apparently, invented golf, all in the same day.

Bilbo smiled in amusement.

_“You made that up.”_

“Oh, any tale worth the telling always could take a little embellishing. And when you come back, you’ll have a tale or two to tell yourself,” Gandalf answered.

_“Can you promise I’ll come back?”_

“No. And if you do, you’ll never be the same.”

Bilbo sighed softly and stared at the picture of his mother.

Who was smiling down and who died the day after his birthday, having held out as long as she could to insure that Bilbo would get his inheritance and held out longer still so his birthday would not be too marred by her death.

He wasn’t the same lad who Gandalf had told stories to and saved. Bilbo even wondered if he could change _again_ without breaking.

He sighed and stood, walking away as he scrubbed at his hair, heading to his room to think. He heard Balin insist on the loss of himself and he wonders if it is true.

The song strikes him in the heart, the song of loss and of a missing home. Distantly, Bilbo thinks he sees the Shire, blackened and twisted, and thinks he would never be the same if he ever saw such a sight. He stands as the last notes fade out and he hands Gandalf a blanket, before nodding toward the guest bedroom, leading the way to the one on the west side.

He is quiet as he taps the two boys with the mischievous smiles and nods to Thorin, holding up a blanket and pretends that he does not see the looks of surprise as Bilbo works his way through the entirety of the Company, insuring that they have places to sleep, that they are as comfortable as he can make them (and he notices the boys disappear into Thorin’s claimed room, just as he notices Dori and Nori curl up around Ori), before he’s off to bed, hearing the soft rumble of a voice that is too sorrowful and too far gone to be reclaimed.

The man who sang in that voice will never be happy.

Bilbo knows this, just as he knows that, while Thorin Oakenshield will never be happy, he will be content.

And the next morning, when he wakes in his clothes instead of his dressing gown, he packs a bag as fast as he can, changes, signs the contract, and runs.

Adventure is calling to his blood and he will not deny it.

Not anymore.


	6. Myrtle

It took a while for Bilbo to remember how to ride a pony, something he had not done since before the Fell Winter, though once he did, he felt both his mount and himself relax into the steady stride she had. She was a good choice for someone who was not a good rider, despite ponies being notorious for not having good dispositions towards people in the slightest.

Short though they may be, Bilbo remembered being kept to only the oldest and calmest of the ponies when learning and nearly falling when he graduated to the older and more stubborn ones.

The pony he rode now reminded him of one of those ponies he rode in his youth, right down to his sneezing fits.

And, confound it all, in his haste he had forgotten his handkerchiefs.

He sneezed two more times and let out a sigh, deciding to do without when he heard the Dwarf that gave the _lovely_ description of ‘incineration’ call out, “Here Mister Baggins!”

Bilbo doesn’t hesitate to catch it, his hand snatching it with rusted ease, and he signs his thanks, though he does not think the other sees it. “Hey, Nori, time to pay up!” a voice shouts and Bilbo blinks in surprise as small purses that jingle when tossed begin to fly through the air, up and down the Company.

One flies behind them as Bilbo asks what is going on, watching Kili snatch it out of the air with a self-satisfied smirk as he jingles it in front of his brother’s face, who scowls at Kili’s smugness.

“They all took bets on whether or not you would come,” Gandalf answered and Bilbo raised an eyebrow.

Before he can ask, he smiles and shakes his head a bit at seeing Gandalf catch his own purse of coins. “I never doubted you for a minute,” Gandalf stated and Bilbo shakes his head, a smile still on his face.

He wonders how Gandalf would react if the old Wizard knew how much his muscles were hurting from all the smiling he was doing lately.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bilbo smiled as he broke the apple in half with practice, holding one end in his mouth while he fed the other half to Myrtle, stroking her neck gently.

He always did prefer animals, as time wore on and Gandalf stopped coming and the adventures stopped being worth the whispers.

Especially ponies, considering they spoke rarely with vocals and mostly with their postures and the way they stood. Bilbo huffed when one of the ponies reached for the half the apple he still had and he shoved the busybody away, gently, and pulled the apple half out of his mouth before he handed it over to the pony who tried to steal it, shaking his head over the way the gray chomped it in half and the forgotten half that fell to the ground stolen by the one tethered close, a dark bay.

Bilbo shook his head over that and carefully scratched Myrtle’s forehead when he heard the orc cries, his head snapping up and over, chill filling his veins that caused Myrtle to snort softly with her own nerves.

He immediately stepped away from her and headed back, eyes searching a bit in the darkness, though he knew he wouldn’t find anything.

“Don’t worry Master Burglar, it is just orcs,” Kili stated as Bilbo drifted close.

_“I know what they are, pipsqueak.”_

It was probably a good thing that they did not understand his gesture language.

However, the mention of orcs had Thorin, their elder kinsman, jerking upright at that.

Bilbo felt himself pale at the way the leader of the Company had jerked, which seemed to egg the pair on. Bilbo, if he had a voice, and the experiences he did, would have snarled at them to _shut up_ , but he does not think the snaps of his hand are getting noticed, not by these pair, or understood.

Bilbo winces for them when Thorin snarls at them instead and he does not twitch when Thorin’s heavy gaze lands on him before he walks away.

And Bilbo watches him go and hopes he does not fall into darkness and despair, but thinks he’s already there. And he wonders if Fili and Kili are the way they are because they wish to drag him back from the precipice he stands upon.

Or the abyss he’s already fallen into.

Bilbo does not know the King well enough to gage that, but Balin is offering words of comfort to the two in the form of a piece of history that is probably never told.

Bilbo can understand why not, for the death and price are high.

He can understand why Thorin does not speak of the day he became King.

Bilbo turns to face Thorin then, eyes seeing the Dwarf that stands there, staring back at his Company, and even at this distance, Bilbo can see how much _more_ Erebor is to Thorin.

To the crownless king, with no throne or kingdom, nor anything at all to offer to anyone, except the promises of _maybe_ to this Company, and Bilbo realizes he’d follow this Dwarf to Erebor and face a dragon, for the _possibility_ of seeing Thorin earn his crown.

 _“What of the Pale Orc?”_ he gestures as he turns back around.

Bifur growls out in the Dwarf’s spoken language, and Bilbo nearly leaps right out of his skin at how close he is, but Balin frowns a bit in confusion, even as Thorin states, with the enraged finality of someone who does not wish to hear otherwise, that the Pale Orc is dead.

And Balin huffs a sigh and shares an uneasy look with Gandalf, or at least with someone in Gandalf’s direction.

Bilbo does not look to see, but he gets up and walks back to Myrtle, brushing out her mane with his fingers before he begins to braid it, simply, undoing them once he’s done.

He stays like that till the flames are nearly dead and the shrieks of orcs past have left his mind.

When he walks back, Gandalf catches him, gently, on his arm and Bilbo yanks it out, memories he does not want trapping him somewhere between the past and present. He knows he’s shaking and Gandalf’s hands are folded over his own. “You are here, Bilbo Baggins-Took,” Gandalf murmurs and Bilbo stares at him, into eyes far too knowing.

Bilbo gently pulls his hands out of the friendly grasp and returns to Myrtle.

He is there even when the dawn breaks and there is nothing left of the night before but ashes of last night’s fire and Myrtle’s half-braided mane. He undoes it and heads back, pretending that he has not been awake the whole night, listening to orc cries of years past and the snarls of wolves, not wargs, because the wolves had come before the orcs, separate from orcs that poured into the Shire in the wake of the white wolves being driven off.

He accepts breakfast with a gesture of thanks and blinks blearily when Bombur returns the proper gesture. He is also surprised when Bifur sits next to him and, soon, the Dwarf who no one can understand, and Bilbo, are having a halfway decent conversation.

Bilbo, half asleep, doesn’t comprehend this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playing with Tolkien's world a bit.
> 
> When he originally wrote everything, hunting wolves was an acceptable past time.
> 
> Now, not so much.
> 
> In the research I found, the orcs and white wolves attacked simultaneously.
> 
> I am ignoring that in favor of this version, because that is more in line with the movie!verse this half pulls from.


	7. Talking, in a Manner of Speaking

Bilbo rubbed his eyes tiredly and twitched a bit when he felt a hand, familiar rest on his shoulder and he glanced over to stare at Gandalf. Gandalf signed at him to go to sleep and Bilbo’s eyes narrowed slightly at the suggestion before he signed back,  _"And what, fall off?"_

Gandalf let out a low chuckle. “Lean over your pony’s neck, Bilbo, and sleep some. I will make sure you do not fall,” he stated and Bilbo sighed before he shifted to do so, easily making sure that he would not fall or upset Myrtle.

And then he fell asleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Gandalf raised an eyebrow as Bofur rode up from where he had been following. “Is our Bilbo all right?” he asked, eyeing the Hobbit who had fallen asleep, balanced on his pony so he would not fall off.

Myrtle walked on calmly, quite taken with the Hobbit it seemed. Gandalf had not been able to speak to her about it, and she, like the Dwarfs in the Company, did not seem inclined to share more then she wished. “Oh, quite. He just had a rough night last night,” Gandalf answered calmly, keeping an eye on Bilbo, who was unmoving beyond small little shifts that came with Myrtle’s walk.

“We hadn’t meant to give the Hobbit nightmares,” Kili stated as they began to ride past.

“You didn’t,” Gandalf answered.

He did not mention one must be  _asleep_  to have nightmares.

By the time they came to the midday rest so they could walk their horses, Bilbo was up.

Bleary eyed, but up.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When they Company dismounted to walk so they could at least partially rest the ponies, Bifur was next to Bilbo, continuing their conversation from earlier.

Only this time, Bilbo was awake enough to realize that he was having a conversation with Bifur and had this morning as well.

While slightly confused, he went with it, Bifur sometimes shifting his hand slightly, with a gruff growl in the Dwarf’s spoken language. Bilbo frowned a bit in confusion, but went with it, since he had a feeling that Bifur was…well, teaching him the iglishmek version of whatever it was Bilbo was saying.

But the conversation flows about their lives.

Bifur presses about the Shire and the people he knew. He asks about travel, about who came through, and Bilbo answers as best he can.

It is when Bifur asks who taught him his gestures that Bilbo wishes he were blind so he could not see the questions.

_“My mother.”_

“Your mother was a Dwarf?” Bofur asks in confusion from behind them and Bilbo turns to glare at him before shaking his head sharply.

Before either Bifur or Bofur could ask for clarification, the call to mount up was called and Bilbo was up on and on Myrtle’s back and riding away from them before they had a chance to ask.

While Bifur frowned and growled out rude and unrepeatable things about Bilbo under his breath, he also knew that he had hit a sore spot; mostly because he himself reacted that way anytime one of  _his_  sore spots were hit.

“What did I say?” Bofur asked as he rode up to take Bilbo’s spot.

Bifur merely cuffed him upside the head.

Bombur may be the baby, but Bofur often acted like it instead.

How could he have gone from being an only child to the oldest of three he would _never_ understand.


	8. Trolls

Bilbo let out a frustrated sigh when Gandalf marched past him, unable to get his attention and Balin pat his shoulder gently. “Worry not laddie. He’ll be back,” he stated, but Bilbo, who could not shout inquiries, could not cry for answers, hated the feeling of being brushed off.

It was a feeling, however, that he was achingly familiar with and he gently took Blain’s pony, with the promise of taking care of him along with Myrtle once the packs were removed and he lead them over, ignoring how Thorin ordered Fili and Kili to watch over the ponies. Myrtle snorted softly and tried to pull back as they walked closer to the trees. Bilbo let out a pained sound, well, sort-of.

It was more a pained breath and he gently tugged at Myrtle’s rope reins before he had the pony following him uneasily. He untied Myrtle’s reins and let them drop, the pony content to stand semi-calmly as Bilbo led Balin’s pony to his usual spot next to Thorin’s pony, carefully staking the pony to the ground before he brushed the pony off. He ran fingers through the thick mane before he went to collect Myrtle, who looked ready to lock her knees and refuse to move.

Bilbo reached out and ran a comforting hand down her neck, but Myrtle snorted nervously. He wished he could whisper words of comfort, but he didn’t like this place either and he sighed before he lead her off to the side, near Fili and Kili’s ponies, who snorted and eyed Myrtle with something akin to the mischievousness they shared with their riders.

He pushed the pair away gently and let Myrtle pick her spot before gently staked her down, running a comforting hand through her mane. She gently nosed his cheek and he smiled, gently pressing his head against her neck. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand clasped his shoulder and he looked over to see Bifur there.

_“How are you?”_

Bilbo considered and signed back, _“Well enough.”_

 _“Liar,”_ Bifur answered.

Actually, it was more like ‘oath-breaker’, but with a subtly to remove the sting and Bilbo smiled in agreement, nodding. Bifur then nodded towards the camp and Bilbo pat Myrtle’s neck before he followed the light tug Bifur gave his shoulder. He shot Bifur a look, but Bifur just tugged a few more times until Bilbo was walking next to him, one of Bifur’s arms over his shoulders. He ignored how people stared, even as Bifur gently shoved Bilbo onto the ground and then sat behind him. _“What?”_ he questioned.

 _“Sit. Stay,”_ Bifur signed and Bilbo sat quietly as Bifur began to grumble in the language while he worked…very tiny braids into Bilbo’s hair.

He didn’t move, having a feeling that this had some cultural significance, as Bifur worked braids into his hair. He wasn’t sure how Bifur was doing it, and he was sure that they were quite tiny, but he felt himself flushing in slight embarrassment at how everyone, omitting Thorin (who was looking elsewhere, probably in the direction of Erebor), Bofur and Bombur, were staring at the pair in surprise.

Bifur paused in his weaving and growled something that was probably very rude, which had everyone looking away, before he continued. There were some growls of frustration and Bilbo signed out a ‘sorry’, which caused Bifur to smack his hand, none so gently, and he snorted softly, waving his hand. “Bifur, his hair is too short to do what you want to do,” Bofur stated from where he was starting up a cooking fire.

Bifur growled something and Bofur sighed before he snapped something back at Bifur. Bilbo winced when a braid was tugged and then Bifur pat his shoulder roughly before standing up and walking away.

Bilbo reached up, gently touching the small braids that now decorated the sides of his head, going down behind his ears and to the nape of his neck. He blinked in confusion and looked up at Bofur and Bombur in confusion, but there were no answers forthcoming.

Bilbo, while confused, just gave Bifur a shaky smile when the otherwise mute Dwarf glanced over at him.

_“Thank you.”_

Bifur gave a nod and Bilbo carefully stood up, brushing off his trousers before he went to go help collect more firewood with Ori.

When he came back, Bifur gave him a gentle, especially for him, cuff upside the head. Bilbo gave a tiny smile in return, though his confusion must have been obvious, though Bifur was not inclined to explain.

He didn’t seem to enjoy doing so.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Give those to the lads, will you?” Bofur asked after he ladled two bowls full of the stew, barely even pausing between handing over the bowls to smack Bombur’s hand with the ladle.

“You’ve had enough,” Bofur scolded, even as Bilbo headed towards where he hoped Fili and Kili were.

As he walked up, he saw their stance and he gently tapped Fili and Kili with his elbows, concern on his face. “We’ve run into a problem,” Kili stated and Bilbo raised an eyebrow.

“They’re supposed to be sixteen ponies,” Fili stated.

“We count only fourteen,” Kili finished.

Bilbo nodded a bit and then turned, moving to head back to camp, only to have both grab him before gently hauling him back. “No, no. You’re our…burglar,” Fili answered, one hand going up to touch Bilbo’s braid, only for Bilbo to jerk away, and Kili focused on the braid as well.

“Who braided your hair?” Kili asked and Bilbo promptly kicked him before nodding to the ponies while he tried to give them the bowls.

They, instead, nodded a bit and walked away. Bilbo glared a bit and began to look, eyes searching for something beyond ‘obviously big and dangerous’. Kili then tapped his arm and pointed, Fili already moving ahead, while Bilbo sighed upon seeing the distant fire and rolled his eyes as he followed after the pair.

At this rate, they were all going to get eaten and die, slowly.

As they grew closer, Bilbo ducked down, his natural instincts directing him and his eyes widened at the sight of a large troll carrying two…he had Myrtle. Myrtle and Bungo, meaning Kili’s pony was already taken.

“You can get them back, right?” Fili asked and Bilbo shot him a look, even as the blonde Dwarf brother took his bowl.

“And if you get into trouble, hoot once like a hoot owl and twice like a brown owl,” Kili added and took his own bowl.

Bilbo glared at them and then pointed at Fili before pointing, sharply back at the camp and began to slip towards the flickering flames.

He moved through the shadows, eyes searching as he found himself hiding…from trolls.

“Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and if it doesn’t look like it’ll be mutton tomorrow,” one of the trolls grumbled and another sneezed, earning a wince from Bilbo as he slipped through, using skills far from rusted (ah, the Sackville-Baggins _were_ useful for something), as he headed toward the ponies, keeping an ear out on the trolls, who were whining about food.

They…they ate a farmer who lived nearby.

Of _course_ they did.

That’s it, next time Gandalf went storming off, Bilbo was going with him.

He bit back a sigh, even as he headed towards the ponies.

No, no he wouldn’t.

Damn his sense of loyalty.

Thrice over.

He began to work on the knot with an air of frustration, tugging at the knot uselessly. He let out a soft puff of air and saw the knife on the troll’s hip.

This…this was the _stupidest_ thing he had ever done.

He moved quietly and carefully, wincing with odd thankfulness that his muteness kept him from shouting in surprise when he picked up bones on accident.

Fili and Kili would owe him _so much_ for getting him into this.

He kept back until the troll was settled back on his stool and he carefully moved forward, hoping to unhook the knife when he heard the troll starting to sneeze.

He didn’t have a chance before he was grabbed and sneezed on.

Right after his brief moment of, _oh, this is disgusting_ , he realized he was seen.

He had been caught.

In between his complete disgust shifting to complete terror, his realized one thing.

He was going to _kill_ Fili and Kili.


	9. Ill-Fated Rescue

“Look what came out of my nose!” the sneezing troll exclaimed and Bilbo stared at the three in horror.

“Can we eat it?” another asked and Bilbo flinched away, trying to wriggle away.

“I don’t like the way it is wriggling!” the sneezing one shouted and threw him to the ground.

The wind was knocked out of him, but he was scrambling away, on his feet, only to find a knife pointed at his chest. “What are you?” he asked and Bilbo would have groaned if he had the ability to do so and instead shifted, trying to duck out of the way.

He could not answer them and he dodged the swish of the knife. “Catch it!” one of them ordered, the ringleader most likely, and Bilbo continued to dodge around, shifting and rushing when he could, only to gasp as he was grabbed up by the back of his jacket and hauled into the air.

“Are there more of you little ferrets running about?” the troll asked and Bilbo shook his head ‘no’ sharply.

“I say he’s lyin. Hold his toes over the fire,” another troll snarled and Bilbo cringed, but still shook his head ‘no.’

On the bright side, at least no one would hear him scream. “Hey!” Kili shouted and Bilbo twisted to stare at the young Dwarf.

Oh, lovely.

He hoped Fili had gone to get everyone else and Kili readied his sword. “Put him down!” Kili ordered.

Ah, and there was his familial resemblance to Thorin beyond his looks.

Well, that put to rest if they were kin or not to Thorin by blood. Bilbo struggled slightly as he was hefted up by the back of his jacket again. “All right,” the troll rumbled and Bilbo was thrown.

Kili steadied himself and easily caught him, though they both went crashing to the ground and Bilbo quickly rolled off the warrior, allowing Kili to retake his sword from where he had dropped it (the idiot; side-step the flying Hobbit next time) and held it in front of him, eyes glittering with excitement.

Bilbo masterfully resisted the urge to smack him upside the head.

He took a step back, ready to grab Kili and run when there was a war cry and the clearing was filled with armed Dwarves. Oh, good.

Fili _did_ get them.

Bilbo sort-of wished he had gotten the ponies free and not gotten caught so they could just ride out of there before the trolls even realized they were there. He glanced around a bit and began to dodge through the maddening fight, heading for the ponies, and Myrtle, mostly. He grabbed up the troll’s curved knife/scythe and he cut through the ropes, quickly getting out of the way of the rushing ponies.

Myrtle snorted and paused, turning towards him, but Bilbo pushed at her, getting her running once more, away from the trolls and Bilbo turned, swerving backwards slightly as the troll reached for him. He continued to dodge.

Just not enough to avoid when the second troll grabbed him, hauling him into the air and the second grabbed him on the other side.

They tugged slightly, which caused Bilbo to barely suppress a flinch, especially as the troll threatened, “Throw down your arms or we’ll throw down his.”

“Bilbo!” Kili shouted and Thorin caught him with a grunted out, “Kili, no!”

Bifur was glaring, though at Bilbo or the trolls, he could not tell. Thorin was also staring, eyes harsh and Bilbo did not look at him. He focused on the sky, actually, once he saw that they were looking.

Because, really, he didn’t want to see their faces when his arms were ripped off.

He looked down when he heard a sword being sunk into the dirt and blinked a bit when he saw that Thorin was the one to have done it. He watched as Kili threw his sword down, followed by everyone else doing the same, though Ori seemed to be taking his cues from Kili.

His amusement died once half were shoved into sacks while the other half were tied to a spit.

And here, Bilbo was hoping they would just get tired up somewhere till they got hungry.

Bilbo sat, eyes closed, thinking to himself as he listened to the trolls.

Listened to the trolls grumble about wasting nighttime and…stone.

His eyes snapped open and he looked up as they grumbled about how one didn’t fancy turning to stone with the dawn. His eyes slipped up to the eastern horizon, and he let out a long sigh through his nose.

It wasn’t even to false dawn yet. He would have to keep them talking for hours, two at the least, four at the most, considering the darkness that surrounded them.

Too many nights unable to sleep attributed to _that_ knowledge and he forced his way to his feet shaking his head rapidly. “Hey, I think the little ferret-thing is trying to tell us something,” one of the trolls stated and Bilbo nodded frantically.

“I think he wants to play charades,” the one that sneezed stated and Bilbo nodded pointedly towards him.

“If we take him out of the sack, he’ll run off,” one reasoned.

“Nothing saying we can’t have a little insurance, now is there?” one asked and the one that sneezed yanked him out of the sack while the other, not turning the spit, took the long tie and slipped a noose around his neck, holding it in his hand, which made Bilbo internally wince.

He really hoped this thing could be cut.

Really, he did.

Because he did not fancy starving to death while being basically tied to a stone troll.

“They’re halfwits! Ya can’t reason with them!” one of the Dwarves, Dori it sounded like, exclaimed.

“Half-wits? And what does that make us?” Bofur snapped back.

Bilbo nearly glared at those on the spit, because, really, while they’re lives are at risk, at least they didn’t get the pleasant thoughts of ‘strangulation’ and ‘having neck broken’ put in there.

Oh, and neck cut open and bleeding. That one too.

“All right, what is it ferret?” the leader demanded and Bilbo began to use obvious gestures to get his point across.

The Dwarves’ eyes narrowed, but the troll spinning the spit sniffed a bit. “I think I know how to cook Dwarf,” he stated.

Bilbo ignored the Dwarves' protests, and Bilbo continued to work out what he was trying to say, wondering if having a voice would earn him more insults. He also ignored snarls of traitor and other worse things, focused as he was on getting his point across. He was sure, however, that they would protest being told they smelled bad.

Bilbo glanced frantically at the horizon, nearly shaking his head when his eyes found only darkness and he focused on signing out, purposely making his hands shake worse.

He gasped softly as the tie was yanked and he fell back, wheezing slightly as he managed to get the thin noose loose. “Pick it up ferret,” the leader growled and he managed to get it across that skinning was needed.

“Get my filleting knife,” the cook ordered and Bilbo winced at the symphony of sound that came from the Dwarves.

Really?

Were they _this thick_?

Just…a little more time, that was all.

He got up as he heard the trolls starting to argue about the actually effects skinning would have on the Dwarves and Bilbo nearly sighed with relief, though the jerk on the tie around his neck sent him sprawling and wheezing once more.

He got up, even as the sneezing one said something about eating them _alive_ and Bilbo looked over, only to see it was Bombur.

He rushed forward, to the end of his _leash_ (because that was what it was right now), shaking his hands and head rapidly, trying his hardest not to go too far, or he’d lose what little air he could still get to his lungs. “Why can’t I eat this one?” the sneezing one asked and Bilbo thought frantically, missing the spread of the false dawn, far in the horizon as he made wriggling motions.

“Worms?” the sneezing one asked, even as Bombur began to squirm.

Bilbo made a circular motion and the sneezing one let out a shout, tossing Bombur down with a shout of, “ _Parasites?_ ”

Bilbo nodded with a pointing motion and nearly glared when Bombur breathily protested this.

He took a few steps back, getting back into easy breathing range. “Well, what about these?” the cooking one stated and Bilbo nodded frantically, before waving his arms around, trying to show that it was _all_ , even as the ones on the spit began to protest having _creatures that wanted to eat them_ be told a lie about them having parasites.

Bilbo held out an arm and tapped his shoulder, ignoring the growing protests until he heard a thump, as if someone kicked someone else.

“I’ve got parasites!” Kili shouted and Bilbo nearly rolled his eyes.

Well, at least Thorin had intelligence enough to realize what Bilbo was doing.

That boded well for Erebor.

“What should we do then? Let them go?” the leader asked and Bilbo forcibly relaxed his muscles even as he nodded.

He let out a whooshing exhale as he found himself on his back, being slowly dragged back to the leader. “This _ferret_ isn’t being helpful at all! He’s just distracting us! Hurry up and cook ‘em! We’ll squish the rest into jelly, _after_ leaving the _ferret_ for the wolves!” the troll growled and Bilbo, with his lack of oxygen, _really_ didn’t need to hear that.

He wondered if his vision was whiting out due to lack of air, or the thought of being a wolf’s snack.

His ears were ringing slightly (was the howl really there, or was it just a far too remembered memory?) and he heard Gandalf and…oh, the noose tightened slightly and Bilbo scrabbled at it.

And he let out a gasp as he felt something cold slip in and up, forcing Bilbo to collapse onto the ground, even as someone helped him uncurl, standing, with an order of, “Breathe, Bilbo!”

Bilbo took deep breaths, coughing a few times before he managed to get his vision clear to find it was Fili supporting him in standing. Bilbo gave a shaky smile and blinked a bit when Fili relaxed. “Kili, I’m thinking when we next have lessons, we should pay attention to those in diplomacy instead of skipping out to go get in extra weapons practice,” Fili stated, even as he carefully shoved Bilbo to a waiting Bombur.

Who easily supported him before he reached up and gently touched Bilbo’s neck, which made Bilbo wince and wince again when Bombur brought his fingers up to show blood. “Whatever happened to you Master Baggins?” Gandalf asked and Bofur chuckled as he walked over, tugging his vest into place.

“Seems our burglar decided to play charades with the trolls. Only they didn’t want him running off, so they decided to use the tie from his bag to keep him here. They weren’t too happy when they realized he was stalling,” Bofur stated, even as Bifur came over, tilting Bilbo’s head up to inspect the cut before he bopped Bilbo on the head.

Bilbo scowled at him and only earned another cuff upside the head for it.

He then carefully stood up on his own and made sure he could take deep breaths.

A bit of pain, but nothing that wasn’t serious.

Probably.

Gandalf touched his throat and frowned a bit. “I shall look at that, later, Mister Baggins. There doesn’t seem to be _too_ much damage,” he muttered and then looked around.

“Now, where is their cave?’ he muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have given you two chapters in a night.
> 
> For a sick person, this is awesome.


	10. Scouts

Bilbo took one look at the cave and one sniff that nearly made him retch, and he pointedly refused to enter the cave. And he was not a Dwarf, so, really, that should have been expected. He did not go wandering into caves and, instead, waited outside with the others who had not wanted to brave the stench of the cave which...was about half the Company in fact.

Including Fili and Kili.

They immediately turned on Bilbo once he was alone with them and he sighed from where he was trying get the dried snot off his coat. As it was, in only his trousers, suspenders, shirt, and waistcoat, he looked even less likely to be among this Company then before. He focused on removing the dry snot, ignoring how Fili and Kili were poking at his slightly cleaner braids.

Bilbo had only washed his face off to the best of his ability after he got a small bowl of water and used the ‘handkerchief’ Bofur had given him. Now, he was just relieved that the coat was ‘cleaning’ easily. Because, if it didn’t, he didn’t really want to think about he would wear the disgusting thing anyway.

However, after the fourteenth poke, he reached up and smacked their hands away. “Hey!” Kili protested, but Bilbo only waved his hand at him before he inspected his coat and put it back on, though he left it unbuttoned. He was not touching anymore snot if he could help it, and he used the last of the water to wipe his hands free of the dried snot, even as he jerked his head away from Kili’s questing fingers.

He did not have to dodge much longer, however, as Gandalf called, “Bilbo.”

He took the distraction and walked over to the Wizard, raising an eyebrow when Gandalf presented him with what was a sword to him and a long knife to anyone else, he was sure. He carefully took it, even as he stared up at Gandalf in confusion.

“That is of Elvish make. The blade glows _blue_ when orcs and goblins are near,” Gandalf stated.

Bilbo swallowed and looked down at the weapon before he looked back up at Gandalf. _“I don’t even know how to use a sword,”_ he signed, holding the weapon to his chest.

“And I hope you never have to use it, Bilbo. But remember this; courage is knowing when to spare a life, instead of taking one,” Gandalf answered and Bilbo watched him walk away before he looked down at the weapon in his hand.

He gently gripped the hilt and pulled it out with a soft singing sound that sent a thrill through his Tookish blood. He stared at the blade and resheathed it, before he tied it to his waist, as he saw the others with their swords at their waist. He fumbled a bit and started slightly when Bombur was suddenly there, gently tugging it into the proper place, tying it off. _“Thank you,”_ Bilbo signed and Bombur smiled, gently clapping him on the shoulder.

“You’re welcome. Can’t have you losing it now, can we?” he responded and Bilbo nodded, giving a silent laugh, surprising himself, and Bombur just smiled back before he helped Bilbo pull his pack on, gently handing over his walking stick.

He gently brushed Bilbo off a bit and then gently steered him over to the rest of the Company, Bifur immediately grabbing Bilbo and growling over his neck now that he could see it better in the morning light that filtered through the trees.

What was probably a rather violent series of threats to his wellbeing due to the fact Bilbo could not take care of himself apparently (he’s not sure, but Bifur is reminding him a bit of his mother when he has… _had_ actually managed to scare her with his adventuring ways), when he hears something rushing through the bushes.

The Company turns with a suddenness born of paranoia, readying their weapons and the only thing that keeps him from drawing his own weapon is the fact he has _no clue_ how to do it in close quarters and he doesn’t want to hurt Bifur.

Or Bofur, who is standing almost outside of his field of vision.

Only to have a strange man, dressed in brown, only a sled drawn by a team of rabbits, burst out and come to a stop, Gandalf’s relieved, “Radaghast,” coming out like a wave.

The Company relaxes and Bifur tugs him, and Bofur, away, Bombur following easily before he gently makes both Bilbo and Bofur sit on a rock. He then growls at Bofur, who huffs a bit. “I’m not a child Bifur,” Bofur snapped.

The growling language seemed to be against that thought. Bifur then began to investigate Bofur’s wrists, eyes narrowed, before he dropped the wrist and inspected the other.

He cast a sharp eye over Bofur, who grinned. “See? Perfectly fine,” he stated.

Bombur gave a quiet snort and Bifur glared, but nodded, wandering off. Bombur frowned and took off after him while Bofur let out a low sigh at that. He then glanced at Bilbo when he gently tugged at Bofur’s clothing, feeling like a wayward child when he did so, but Bofur had a contemplative look in his eyes, and…

Well, he earned a rather bright smile at the tug. “What can I do for you Bilbo?” Bofur asked.

_“Is he okay?”_

Bofur frowned a bit at that and ran a hand over his mustache before he let out a low sigh. “He’s had a few good days. Hopefully when he hits a bad patch he won’t…we’ll be somewhere we can at least wait it out a bit,” Bofur admitted quietly.

Bilbo considered and then tapped his forehead.

 Bofur tapped his nose and Bilbo stood up a bit, giving himself a shake, Bofur joining him.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand touched his throat, gently. “That’s a nasty bit though. You shouldn’t have done that,” Bofur muttered.

 _“I couldn’t let you get roasted, or Bombur eaten alive,”_ Bilbo returned.

Bofur shuddered a bit. “Thank you, for that. I like my family whole, even if one has an ax in the head and the other was stupid and got a thin noose looped around his neck,” Bofur murmured and Bilbo started at that.

Bofur gave one of his more enigmatic smiles and tapped one of the braids, gently.

“Bifur, he’s head of our family, as the eldest. He’s understanding that he has bad days. He gave you these so, even when he’s got a bad day and everything, even when he doesn’t know your face, he knows _you_. ‘Good as kin’, that’s what the braids mean. Means that the head of the family accepts you as one of us, that if you ever need protection, he’ll give it. Also means he’ll thwack you upside the head when you do something stupid, like with the trolls. There’s supposed to be a waiting time, proving and such, but you reached out to Bifur first. You treated him nicely and you treated him fairly. He doesn’t want to lose you over that. Just don’t tell anyone else what that means; they won’t get it,” Bofur explained.

Bilbo just nodded, a bit stunned.

Bofur grinned and looked up to where Bombur was watching over Bifur.

And then there was a howl.

Bilbo’s hand snapped out, grabbing Bofur’s arm while he trembled, feeling cold creep in (but it wasn’t near winter, it wasn’t even the _Shire_ and _he is not a tween_ , but he can feel the gnaw of hunger in his belly, days old and aching and the snarl of a wolf) and he’s signing, _“Wolves?”_

“No,” Bofur whispered, voice sharp.

“Wargs,” he stated and there was a snarl that caused them to turn as one.

Bofur jumped back, putting himself between Bilbo and the Warg, even as he slammed his mattock into the warg’s head, though Bifur finished it off, while Kili and Thorin finished off a second one.

Bilbo stared at the wargs and followed the gentle pull of Bofur as they began to move down with the rest of the Company. The loss of the ponies hit Bilbo hard, but he was only half here, in this forest.

His ears were buzzing, filled with howls and hunting cries of orcs.

He was not safe and he did not know if what he was hearing was in the past or the present.

And then Bofur was there, dragging him along as they ran.


	11. Glowing Blue Blades

Bilbo was able to shove himself into the present as they ran, across grass (the grass and dirt that gave too much under his feet, but did not cover, and he focused entirely on the hand on his arm). They ran, following after Gandalf and…oh, it seems Radagast was getting the orcs to follow him.

Well, that was helpful.

They rushed from spot to spot, barely keeping ahead of the orcs and their wargs as Gandalf lead them somewhere. Somewhere that Thorin did not know as Gandalf rushed them to and fro. He was nearly yanked off his feet as Bofur rushed backwards and there was a soft cry of “Ori,” from in front and Bilbo looked forward to find Thorin clinging to Ori, as if he had just yanked him back. Bilbo was about to ask, but they were gone again, running from those that hunted them and Bilbo was starting to get a little short of breath, though Bofur kept him close.

Bilbo winced as he was slammed into a rock, finding himself separated from Bofur, though nearly pressed against Thorin’s back, at least into the furs and he twisted his head away, realizing that Kili was right behind him.

Oh, lovely.

He tensed and closed his eyes before they snapped open, seeing only snow and blood and feeling pain shooting up his arm that should not be there and he gripped his walking stick a little tighter.

And winced when he heard the dying screeches of a warg, swallowing back bile that rose, because he doesn’t think he can handle this and someone grabs him as they begin to run again. There are cries of how Gandalf has betrayed them, disappeared, and Bilbo, if he had a voice, if he could stop trembling so he could sign, he would protest Gandalf  _ever_  abandoning them. There’s a hand on his upper arm like a brand and it is grounding him in the present (those are Dwarves, not Hobbits, the screams are not from your kin, but from the orcs and the wargs as they die), and he’s being pulled with the group, and Gandalf is calling, calling for them and someone is shoving him towards Gandalf and down into the stone cavern before he’s on his feet and…

Bofur is waiting there for him, eyes searching, even as Bombur comes sliding down with Bifur and Bombur gently tugs Bilbo against the wall, close to them, as more slide down. “Kili!” Thorin bellows and joins the rest of the Company. Bilbo can’t stop shaking as Kili joins them, and orc screeches echo through the air.

One tumbles down and Bofur raises his mattock at it, only to discover it is already dead. Thorin bends down and rips out the arrow, before he snarls out, “Elves!”

“The cave leads onto a path. Should we follow it?” Dwalin called and Bofur answered, “Yes!”

“I think that is a very good idea,” Gandalf stated as they began to move.

Bilbo frowned a bit at Gandalf, but Bofur was suddenly back, wrapping a protective arm around him and  _moving_. And suddenly Bilbo was very thankful for that because this cave was chilly.  _“Bifur,”_  he managed to sign out as they moved.

“Bombur’s got him. Come on, we need to get you moving,” Bofur muttered softly.

And they moved.

Bofur refused to let him go, his hand a brand on Bilbo’s upper arm, not touching the scar (though that seems to be accidental, but it helps, because it is grounding, so grounding, but there is cold and snow, in the corners of his vision, and a wolf’s snarl echoing in his ears), and Bilbo clings to it as he stumbles through the rocky pathway, and Bombur gets shoved through a narrow gap by Bifur. And they are through and…

Bilbo stares in shock, a soft wheeze in his breath, as he stares down at the gleaming sight that is  _Rivendell_.

The elvish name he could never sign, but he brands it into his heart.

_Imladris._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, everyone should love me.
> 
> (no, not really)
> 
> Two chapters a day, two days in a row.
> 
> And you might get a third today as well.


	12. Rivendell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....yeah.
> 
> Mute!Bilbo has PTSD.
> 
> Hobbits are cheerful and hardy folk.
> 
> But...certain things will cause this, especially when not talked about.
> 
> Brushing death...does that.
> 
> So, I apologize and should I put a warning up into the tags or no?

Bofur keeps one hand on Bilbo’s wrist as they make their way down, Thorin’s movements…well, Bilbo is pretty sure that at least Gandalf will be drawing Thorin’s ire for a while, but he’s shaking and Bofur is not letting him go. It is far too relieving for Bilbo to comprehend at the moment and, as they get closer, with the cold of the rock, he’s…

Well, Bofur lets him go with a worried smile as Bilbo looks around at the place he read about distantly in his books. He walks quietly and he wants to touch, but at the same time, the stone is cold, and that’s too much. He does not think he could handle it if his hand were to touch the cold as well. He shivered a little and Bofur walked back over to him, eyes searching as Bilbo turned to look at him. Bofur reached up and gently tweaked one of Bilbo’s braids, which earned a startled jump from Bilbo, and Bofur smiled. “You’ll stay close tonight, right?” Bofur questioned gently.

Bilbo felt his eyebrows come together, a frown pulling at his face, even as he nodded.

“Good,” Bofur answered and he drifted away, though not far, allowing Bilbo space.

He looked around the stone work as Gandalf walked toward the elf that had walked down to greet them. “We need to speak with Lord Elrond,” he explained.

“I am afraid he’s not here at the moment,” the elf stated and Gandalf gave a small nod.

“Oh dear. And, where is he?” Gandalf asked.

A horn echoed out and Bilbo looked over. And then he was grabbed and yanked back, into the center of a circle of Dwarves, only he was sure he was panting, and he feels a hand, with knitted gloves on, gently take his and he glances over to see Ori staring at him with wide eyes before he looks away.

He hasn’t spent much time with the scribe and…he needs the grip on his hand to ground him.

He wonders if the trembling is obvious or if Ori just needs to hold onto someone too as the elves circle them on horseback and at the head of the Elven Company is an elf with long dark hair and eyes that are both old and…invigorated at the same time. Bilbo pulls away from those eyes, because he saw those eyes too often after the Fell Winter of the Third Age.

Saw them when the Bucklanders he had been staying with spoke of the orcs they killed and the kin they had to bury.

He was sure, had it been their way, they would have made hunting parties and killed them all.

And Bilbo doesn’t want to know what this elf lost to cause the same look in his eyes. He doesn’t want to know what the orcs have done, and he does not look over at Thorin, he does not stare at the King Without a Crown or Throne.

Because he realizes, in that moment, Thorin’s eyes are the exact same way.

And he does not want to risk Thorin somehow reading his mind to realize what thoughts are sitting in Bilbo’s head.

It takes Ori tugging at his hand from him to realize the Company is moving and the tug is more from Dori trying to get Ori to let Bilbo go.

Bombur is the one waiting for Bilbo and when Ori is forced to let go, despite the scribe’s protests, Bombur has one arm wrapped around Bilbo’s shoulders and is steering him inside.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bilbo is offered clean clothes, in his size (he has a feeling they are for elf children), and everyone is offered baths before dinner and Thorin looks set to refuse when Fili touches his arm and he accepts.

That does not mean he says thanks and Bilbo finds himself being tugged away by Bombur, who looks like he would rather rip out his own beard then leave Bilbo alone, but does so anyway, and Lord Elrond sighs over the cut, and deep dark bruise that has come up since the injury was first given, offering to heal it when he has cleaned up.

Bilbo gives him a thankful look and doesn’t bother to sign, because it would be pointless.

He is sure that Elrond would not understand him.

He is sure most of the Company outside of the Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur can’t understand him.

But he gets cleaned up and he accepts the clothes, because he can do nothing less and he’s not even taken two steps, his hair still wet, when Bofur gently grabs him and tugs him over to an alcove, making him sit down so his hair can be braided, Bofur obviously taking advantage of the wet hair. “Bifur’s a bit…off. Best not to take risks,” Bofur explains and then gently tugs him up, tugging at the clothes and muttering something about ‘elvish make’ and ‘not fitting’, but Bilbo just signs, _“It is not covered in troll snot.”_

“Aye,” Bofur muttered and gently brushed him off, eyes worried.

“You start getting the shakes, you sign to me, and I’ll get you away, okay?” Bofur stated and Bilbo swallowed harshly before he nodded.

Bofur gently tweaked his braid again and lead him to rejoin the Company, Thorin pointedly looking nowhere near him and Bilbo pretending he didn’t notice, while he pretended that the slight trembles were from his wet hair, not from the fact he can _still_ hear the howls.

Sleep, he knows, will not come easily, if at all, tonight.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bilbo ends up sitting between Balin and Fili, which confuses him, but Balin does not explain, not even when Bilbo uses his old signs to communicate and Bifur is too focused on his salad to correct him. Bilbo resists the urge to sigh over this and focuses on his food.

And wishes, not for the last time, that he was back home.

But…

He reaches up and touches one of the braids self-consciously.

He’s not sure where that is anymore.


	13. Hospitality

Bilbo resisted the urge to fidget as Gandalf clasped a hand to his shoulder as the dinner came to an end, though only Bifur seemed to have been happy with the evening's meal. "Bilbo, I am sure this will be of interest of you. And, also, Lord Elrond has expressed an interest in looking over your neck," Gandalf explained and Bofur shifted his hand slightly, as if to grab Bilbo and drag him back when Bombur clapped a hand against his arm.

Bofur let out a low sigh and then nodded before he gently grabbed Bifur, leading him away while Bilbo followed after Gandalf and wondered what Gandalf thought he would find so interesting.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bilbo felt his eyes flick from Balin and Thorin to Elrond continuously as he listened to Gandalf try to verbally beat Thorin into letting Elrond see the map. He was using common sense, which against a grudge, was doing little. Bilbo winced as his inhale caused him some pain. Elrond just waited patiently, though his eyes flickered over to Bilbo, who shook his head slightly, barely keeping back a wince when _that_ caused him pain as well.

“Thorin, no,” Balin protested, drawing Bilbo’s gaze to the Dwarf King and Thorin stepped forward, handing Elrond the map.

Elrond gave a nod of thanks and he carefully inspected it, one eyebrow rising as he stared at it. “This is a map to Erebor. What interest do you have in this?” he asked, a warning caution in his voice, and Bilbo swallowed nervously as he saw Thorin tense, though Gandalf stepped in.

“Academic. Maps like this usually have hidden runes on them. You still read ancient Dwarvish, do you not?”

Bilbo pointedly did not look at Gandalf, instead inching forward to try and see if he could still see the map. He was curious as to what Elrond was seeing on it and…

Elrond, it seemed was fascinated by the map. He was staring at it as if it were the grandest treasure in all of Middle Earth, and Bilbo shifted his head to the side before he flinched, settling back again. It seemed that it was catching up with him. “There are moon runes on this map. They can only be read in the season and shape that they were written in, which is a crescent on a Midsummer’s eve. Fortune is smiling on you Thorin son of Thrain, to have come to Rivendell before its passing,” Elrond stated and Bilbo knew Thorin didn’t consider having to stay here for a week to be _fortunate_.

Elrond handed it back and said, “I would be happy to read it for you, if you are willing to accept our hospitality for the week. However, if it is not too much trouble, I would ask to borrow Mister Baggins. I have not received words of Shire dealings in many years and would love to learn of the recent doings, if it is at all possible Mister Baggins?”

Bilbo glanced over at Thorin and Balin, both of whom seemed to be considering it. “If Mister Baggins has no objections,” Thorin stated and Bilbo shook his head slightly, worried when Thorin became shuttered while Balin gave a smile.

“Mister Baggins?” Elrond called, holding out his arm to Bilbo.

And Bilbo walked over, surprised when Elrond settled his arm around Bilbo’s shoulders.

He was rather surprised when the action did not cause him to tense, even as Elrond led him away. “Now, the last I remember of my Shire knowledge, there was a Smial being built, with Took money and Baggins influence,” Elrond stated and Bilbo smiled brightly.

_Bag-end._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elrond had finished healing the internal damage, leaving the bruising around the cut in varying shades of green and yellow. “The cut is not as deep as a feared. Salves and bandages; best to have your Company’s healer look it over, if only so Thorin’s pride doesn’t take a hit,” Elrond stated and Bilbo gave a weak smile.

Without thinking, he signed in his old manner, _“Close,”_ instead of writing on the paper Elrond had placed close with a quill and ink.

“Close? How close?” Elrond questioned and Bilbo stared.

Elrond glanced at him with an ages old smile. “I have friends who are Rangers of the North. Do you know the entirety of their hand signals?” Elrond questioned as he continued to inspect Bilbo’s neck, fingers gentle.

 _“Yes,”_ he gestured.

“Did a Ranger teach you or a friend of the Rangers?” Elrond questioned.

 _“Friend,”_ Bilbo answered.

“Let’s see, you are a Hobbit, which limits it to the Tooks and the Bucklanders. Actually, the Tooks. Only ones in recent times, for the Shire, that would have been friends to the Rangers, so…Belladonna, then?” Elrond asked, and Bilbo swallowed sharply before he gestured, _“Yes.”_

Elrond gave an apologetic smile and stood up normally. “Elladan, I know you are there,” Elrond called and a dark haired boy who could be no one but Elrond’s son peeked in.

“Adar?” he called.

“Please show Mister Baggins to the rest of his Company. And make sure his breathing is clear. And tell Elrohir if I catch him , or you, playing any pranks on the Dwarves, I shall send you _both_ to Lothlorien to be under your grandmother’s eye, for as long as I deem necessary,” Elrond stated.

“Mister Baggins, if you would please accompany me?” Elladan greeted and Bilbo gave a small nod, carefully standing up on his own two feet.

“I am sorry for your loss, Mister Baggins,” Elrond stated.

 _“And I for yours,”_ Bilbo gestured back and looked over at Elladan, following him out.

The tall elf was quiet as they walked and he smiled when the sound of Dwarven merrymaking filled the air and a flickering light could be seen from an open doorway. “I leave you here, Mister Baggins. Make sure someone looks at your neck. I’m surprised Father let you out of his sight without it bandaged. Sleep…sleep well,” Elladan stated and walked off.

Bilbo watched him go and then walked the rest of the way alone.

He raised an eyebrow at the sight of Bifur heating up some leafy green thing over the fire and stepped into the room, earning a ripple effect. “Bilbo!” Kili exclaimed and jumped up with Fili, dragging him up as he moved, and drawing everyone’s attention.

“Thorin said the elf stole you,” Fili said.

Bilbo gave a small shrug and Kili frowned. “Your neck is all cut up,” Kili stated.

“Come on,” Fili stated and they began to drag him across the room to where Oin and Gloin were sitting.

“Oin,” they called in stereo and Bilbo soon found himself being absconded over by the brothers, Oin who spread a salve he called an ‘ointment’ on the cut before he wrapped Bilbo’s neck, tight enough to be useful but not too tightly.

“Thorin says we’ll be staying a week here. The lads are torn over this,” Gloin stated and Bilbo gave a small nod before he stood.

“Elves though they may be, I am glad for the rest,” Gloin stated and Bilbo gave another nod when he felt a pair of hands grab him. “Wonderful, Gloin,” Fili and Kili stated.

“Yes, and now we shall take our Burglar, with our Scribe, and go scout,” Fili stated and they began to drag him away.

Bilbo waved at Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur as he was dragged past them, Kili keeping a hold of him while Fili managed to, somehow, get Ori from Dori’s grip and drag him off as well.

Bilbo really hoped they wouldn’t ask him to break into someplace.


	14. Waking Nightmares (Traumatic Flashback)

Bilbo shook his head ‘no’ as Fili and Kili whined a little while Ori stared at them.

“It is just a little jump Bilbo,” Fili pressed and Bilbo shook his head ‘no’ again.

“We’ll boost you up!” Kili pointed out.

Bilbo threw his hands up in the air and looked to Ori, who looked ready to write down the events. Bilbo gave him a pointed look and Ori merely shrugged. “Bilbo, come on! There has to be more than _just_ green food!” Fili pressed.

Bilbo shook his head ‘no’ vigorously, no matter how much that tugged at his neck injury.

“Oh, please Bilbo!” Kili entreated and Bilbo let out a hiss of air from his teeth and shook his head ‘no’ again.

“Please Mr. Bilbo?” Ori asked, eyes widening and Bilbo stared at the face.

And then sighed, turning back, waving at Fili and Kili. “Yes!” they exclaimed as one and Bilbo knew he was going to regret this.

Greatly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bilbo let out a hiss through his teeth as he landed on the floor of the kitchen, the empty, devoid of people, kitchen, that he was breaking into because Ori, apparently, could get him to do anything.

That might be the real reason he was with Fili and Kili after they decided to drag Bilbo into this mess.

Great, Fili and Kili now had a secret weapon against him.

He let out a large huff of air through his nose and ran his hand over his face before he wandered to the back door and opened it to allow the three waiting Dwarves in. “Yay! Let’s see what else is here,” Fili stated and Ori followed him in, Kili bringing up the rear. Bilbo leaned against the doorframe and began to trace the braid over his right ear. He leaned against the frame and watched as they searched, his eyes going back to outside.

A cold breeze curled through the air and he shivered, drawing his borrowed coat around him tighter, shivering as the cold continued to creep into his bones. He felt as if he was breathing ice and there was a snarl, low and harsh. He blinked a bit when he heard it. He took a steadying breath, which wasn’t very steadying and then something touched his arm and…

Bilbo blanked out, trapped in a world of white and cold. Of a wolf leaping out of the snow bank, eyes hungry, and Bilbo is frozen instead, even when he feels a burning, _searing_ , pain in his arm, but the wolf is on his chest and he _cannot breathe_ and there’s a distant rush, the cold pressing down upon him. His hand is scrabbling against something cold and ungiving.

There it is along his back and his head as well and something warm was on touching his wrist.

He couldn’t hear it, but that was new.

It was grounding.

Bilbo took deep breaths, and blinked, feeling as if he was leaving a nightmare. But it wasn’t, not entirely.

“Bilbo, you with us again?” a voice asked and Bilbo knew that voice.

A hand, fingers, touched the _braid_ down the left side of his head and he blinked more, realizing he was on the ground, shoved against the doorframe. Ori was sitting in front of him, calm, but worried and Kili was standing nervously outside.

Which meant…

Bilbo shifted to look over and found Fili the one touching his wrist and running fingers down the left side braid. Not restricting, or trying to hold him, but waiting patiently, a calm and steady rock. “With us?” Fili asked again and Bilbo swallowed, then nodded.

“Good. Let’s…let’s get you back to Bofur, yeah?” Fili asked and Bilbo nodded again, wondering when he got on the ground and wondering what was going on.

Ori held out his hands and Bilbo reached forward, taking them, and Ori stood, taking Bilbo with him. “We’re lucky you _aren’t_ a warrior Bilbo, or we would have probably had more trouble getting close to you,” Fili stated and Kili nodded a bit.

Bilbo waivered, feeling as if he had run a marathon and Kili gently caught him. “Yeah, definitely to Bofur,” Kili stated.

“Or Bofur to him,” Fili stated and Ori looked up.

“I can get him,” Ori stated and the pair looked over Bilbo’s head before nodding.

“We’ll be here, because I don’t think we can move him,” Fili answered even as Ori shook his head.

“There’s an alcove there. That might be best. And it is the cold that is getting to him,” Ori stated and Bilbo did a full-bodied flinch at that, though Kili has an arm wrapped around his waist, loosely while Fili had an arm wrapped around Bilbo’s shoulders.

“Right. Like…never mind. Kili, you got him?” Fili asked and Kili nodded.

“Let’s go Mister Baggins. Seems you’re a bit shorter of breath then we thought, huh?” Kili answered and Bilbo clung to that, and Kili, as Kili took him out of the wind’s path.

Kili kept Bilbo’s attention until Bofur was there. Bofur who gently took up Bilbo’s hands and tugged. “Come on. Need to show you where we all are,” he stated and Bilbo stumbles up and nearly falls, but Bofur is there, and it is just…

It is nice, to have this again.

He willing follows the gentle tug around his shoulders to where they are camped for the night, in a small group away from the others.

Later, when Bilbo wakes, thrashing in his bed roll and crying quietly, there are soft whispers of comfort and acceptance and a shoulder for him to lean on. It is one of the worst nights Bilbo has had in a while.

Then again, it is the first night, in a while, that he has, once more, been the prey.

The morning dawns with Bilbo tired, and shaking, but good enough to face the day.

So, for that matter, is Bifur.

Bofur and Bombur redo the braids, answering Bifur in the tongue of the Dwarves, and Bilbo’s hands stutter a bit over gestures before Bombur gently settles his hands over Bilbo’s and tells him not to worry. Once the braids are done, they tug up the shaking two and get them to the breakfast table.

No one looks twice at the Bifur who snaps and snarls at anyone who is not kin, or Bilbo (though if what Bofur told him, the braids identify him as such), but everyone, except Ori, Fili, and Kili, watch the way Bilbo’s hands shake violently. About how it is Bombur splitting his time between Bifur and Bilbo, along with Bofur, to steady his hands and making sure that slips are quickly covered, as subtly as the two can manage.

Bofur is smiling and pretending like he isn’t supporting the pitcher in Bilbo’s hands, while Bombur returns everything rather good-naturedly while keeping Bifur from flipping the table over and starting a fight.

It is Oin, however, that stops the obvious staring with a tut of, “Look at the state of those bandages. I’ll need to change those laddie.”

And Bilbo smiles (but it is false, as false as a gilded coin), nodding a bit in agreement.

With that, no one stares obviously.

Not till Oin is hauling him off to take care of his neck and then it is only at his back.

Bilbo is not sure if that is worse or better.


	15. Family

Fili pretended that he didn't feel his uncle's stare on his back as he sharpened his left boot knife calmly while Kili worked on making more arrows to replace those that he had lost to the orcs and been unable to retrieve. His nose wrinkled involentarily at the smell of the fletching glue that Kili had stored in the inner pocket of his jacket, the feathers somehow undamaged, or stolen from the elves.

"Think he'll ask about Bilbo?" Kili mumbled and Fili gave a shake of his head, gently wiping his blade down before he returned it to it's place and pulled out the right boot blade, testing it carefully before he worked on wiping it down, checking for any weak spots while hoping that he had none.

It was not in need of sharpening, but he had a feeling the next time he went over them, he would need to. He tapped his fingers against the hilt in thought for a moment before he returned it to his boot and drew his first sword out, wiping it down, inspecting every inch of it as he wiped it over. He let his fingers trail over the blade through the cloth, humming an old lullaby their mother used to sing to them all the time. Kili joined quietly, the pair content (well, Fili could have done without being near his brother while he made his arrows), as Fili tested his sword's sharpness carefully and returned it to its sheath, smiling as he drew the other sword, nearly jumping out of his skin when Thorin suddenly joined the pair of them.

He removed his old sword from the sheath and set about cleaning it off, his own cloth carefully rubbing the blade down before he tested the blade.

And if he joined in the humming by singing lowly, well, only his nephews were around to hear.

 

*~*~*~*

Balin looked up as he felt Dwalin rest next to him. "And what brings you here, brother?" Balin asked.

He smiled a bit as Dwalin just gently, for him, smacked his head against Balin's, which earned a smile and the pair settled back to their care of their weapons, wiping them off and making sure that there was no damage to them that would cause them to break at a most inopportune moment.

And if their eyes drifted to the East and Erebor, well, no one was around to say if they did, except each other, and they weren’t telling.

*~*~*~*

“But, Dori, I saw a _library_!” Ori exclaimed, fighting against his older brother’s grip as he hauled Ori backwards.

“Not here! You’re not wandering off around here!” Dori returned, hauling Ori up and around the middle like a troublesome child instead of…okay, he wasn’t an adult, but he had followed Nori and refused to go back, digging in his heels and Dori didn’t feel like _literally_ chaining his baby brother to the wall of their home to keep him there.

“But…but….Dori! I _saw it_! Oh, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!” Ori begged as he tried to twist his way out of Dori’s grip.

“You know, you could be helping!” Dori exclaimed, and Nori merely grinned from where he was sharpening his knives.

“You’re doing a good job Dori. Don’t know how I can be of help,” Nori returned, polishing his knife with a grin.

Dori let out a great sigh and gave a heave, putting Ori over his shoulder easily. “Nonononono! Dori! I am…not a small child, you don’t get to sit on me anymore to get me to stay put! Dori, put me down! I want to see the library!” Ori protested as Dori marched over to where Nori was sitting and settled Ori down on the ground before promptly sitting on Ori’s back.

Ori whined and struggled before letting out a groan, planting his forehead against the floor as Dori pulled out his sword and began to polish it, carefully testing the blade before he began to sharpen it.

And Nori chuckled lowly while Ori cursed them both in every language he knew.

It was a rather impressive foray and Nori couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of that.

And it was worth Dori’s vile glares he aimed at Nori, who merely smiled cheerfully in return.

“Our baby brother sure has a mouth on him, doesn’t he?” Nori commented.

“That is _your_ fault,” Dori muttered.

“I prefer to say that it was my contribution to his upbringing,” Nori returned.

The curse that flew from Ori caused Dori to cuff him, gently, on the ear. “Say anything that route again, and I’ll haul you off to wash out your mouth with soap,” he stated and Ori grumbled, but kept to the less vile curses after that.

And Nori’s laughter echoed out into the gardens and disturbed many people’s academic pursuits.

*~*~*~*

Oin had taken advantage of the hospitality and Elrond had given him access to his herb garden to make some more salves, doing so as Gloin sharpened his axes. “Gimli will be in morning training right now,” Gloin stated, unsurprised when Oin just gave a vague nod, focused as he was on his ointments.

Gloin smiled. “Always glad that he took after me in that aspect. I’m always surprised his mother agreed to marry me, as enamored as she was with her craft. I don’t think I could handle it well, if Gimli had been like her. Never leaving the forge, except when dragged out by either kin or husband. If he were, he’d be right be her in the forge. She gets worse, when I’m away,” he continued and frowned a bit as he made sure the ax was clean and sharp.

He sighed.

“As much as I want to see Thorin become King Under the Mountain…I don’t think I should have left home,” Gloin stated.

He started a bit when a heavy hand clasped his shoulder and he looked up to find Oin smiling at him.

“She’ll be fine. And so will Gilmli. And, when you get back, he’ll have more ax tricks to show you and she’ll have beads to give you to add to your hair. And pretty you up like any Dwarven lass,” Oin answered and Gloin laughed right before he leapt on Oin, the pair soon playfully fighting as if they were years younger and children again.

And while it wasn’t in their home, or even on a mountain, it was good enough for now.

*~*~*~*

Bofur ducked easily under the swing Bifur gave and rolled under the arm, grinning easily.

Bifur’s knuckle dusters had been set to the side, so any hits that Bofur might take were going to be minor by comparison. Oh, he’d have a nasty bruise wherever Bifur’s hand caught, but the whole point was _not_ to get caught, so he focused on dodging Bifur’s strikes.

On the sidelines, Bilbo was half asleep and supported by Bombur, who was munching on something green and leafy. Bofur nearly rolled his eyes, only to belatedly remember that he was in the middle of a training session and Bifur’s fist crashed into his face.

Bofur fell to the ground, briefly stunned, and Bifur leaned over him.

 _“Standing?”_ Bifur gestured and Bofur held up his hand, Bifur taking it and easily hauling him up.

“I’m good. Bombur, your turn,” Bofur stated, carefully holding onto Bilbo and taking Bombur’s place while the Halfling shifted a bit, and Bofur ran a comforting hand over Bilbo’s hair.

He grinned as Bombur’s training had more to using his ladle with brilliant efficiency, and using his bulk for him instead of against him. It was a rather ingenious thing to watch, but Bilbo was content to doze the morning away and Bifur had considered, briefly, waking him before deciding to let the Hobbit rest.

Bofur laughed as Bombur was sent onto his backside and shifted, letting Bombur take over being the pillow while he and Bifur took care of their weapons more thoroughly.

Bofur had just finished sharpening his mattock when Bilbo fully woke up and Bofur grinned. “Just in time Bilbo. Time for luncheon,” he greeted and Bilbo smiled, laughing silently as Bifur hauled him up by the back of the borrowed jacket and began to haul him inside.

Only seconds later, both Bofur and Bombur scrambled after the pair.

No need to have any fights started after all.


	16. Living Hope

Bilbo was feeling better, though he noticed that Bofur and Bombur split their time with Bifur, keeping him from doing anything drastic and Bilbo began to gesture as Bifur himself had taught him. Bifur focused on that to the point that both Bofur and Bombur could eat more while Bilbo put his own meal on hold (they were there for him and it would be a shame to not return the favor, as well as a deep desire to help) and they got Bifur on them so Bilbo could eat, synchronizing easily as if they had done this all their lives instead of Bilbo just trying to help.

And the meal was over and Bilbo’s ear twitched a bit as he heard Ori going, “Pleasepleasepleaseplease, Dori, _please_! Fili and Kili are being allowed to look around!”

“They are scouting. It is _not_ a field trip,” Thorin rumbled and Ori almost deflated before he perked up.

“I should record it! Think of the properness of it!” Ori said, immediately turning his begging on Thorin.

Thorin, who looked less likely to say ‘yes’ than Dori, who nodded. “You’ll need a fourth to keep you three in line,” Thorin stated.

“We volunteer Bilbo!” all three chorused and Bilbo immediately hit his head, lightly, against the table.

This action earned laughter from all of the Company, omitting Thorin. “Very well. The Burglar will go with you,” Thorin stated and Bilbo let out a silent sigh.

He was _doomed_.

*~*~*~*

Bilbo smiled as he watched the three enjoy wandering around Rivendell.

They, unlike the rest of their Company, were all for going sight-seeing around the place. They greeted the elves politely, Ori more so than Fili and Kili, and Bilbo gave a polite nod and smile. The fifth time they ran into people, Bilbo could hear them talking about the rude short one with no shoes.

Apparently, so did Ori, Fili and Kili, because this time Ori added, “And this is Bilbo Baggins. He would introduce himself, but he was born mute.”

Bilbo gave Ori a grateful look and they continued, Ori writing as much as he drew, slowly bringing Rivendell to life in his book. He sketched a bit more, focused as he was, when they heard the pattering of child sized feet.

Well, large for a Hobbit child and Bilbo was surprised as a dark haired boy, half grown (though if he were an Elf or a Man, Bilbo did not know) rushed out of a hallway, careening around the corner. Kili managed to jump out of the way, though Bilbo was out of the way, instincts that never stayed dormant for long reached out and managed to catch the boy by the back of his shirt, stopping him in his run as twin voices called, “Estel, where have you gone?”

And things in Elvish while the boy, Estel, whined a bit in Bilbo’s steady grip, though it was probably a sit far more amusing to Fili and Kili then Bilbo, for the child Estel was taller than Bilbo by over a foot, nearly the height of Ori, the shortest of their little group, and he whined.

“No! I want…are you a part of the Company of Dwarves Adar is giving hospitality to?” the boy asked excitedly, immediately focusing on the three Dwarves.

“Your…adar?” Fili questioned, just as Elladan and Elrohir rounded the corner.

“Estel!” they exclaimed and Bilbo immediately released the boy as one strode forward, picking up the pouting boy.

“Adar would _kill us_ if you got lost,” one of them stated, hugging Estel close before he fully noticed the Dwarves, and Hobbit.

“Oh, Mister Baggins! Thank you for catching him for us!” Elladan exclaimed, the one not holding Estel and Elrohir, the one holding Estel, perked up.

“Mister _Bilbo_ Baggins? Belladonna Took’s son?” Elrohir asked excitedly and Bilbo gave a small nod, though the smile got a tad wistful.

Elladan gave Elrohir a small kick and Elrohir gave an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for your loss. And that we missed her funeral,” he stated.

“You knew Bilbo’s mother?” Ori asked curiously.

“When she was an adventurous tween, yes. She got to Rivendell, twice. We escorted her back the first time and helped her get to Rivendell the second time. Glorfindel scolded us for that,” Elrohir explained.

“I still maintain that it was entirely your idea,” Elladan stated.

“Says the Elf that brought the pony for her and gifted the stubborn creature to her,” Elrohir retorted.

Estel grinned down at the Dwarves and began to struggle in Elrohir’s arms. “I want to meet them!” Estel insisted and Elrohir sighed before setting the boy on his feet.

“Hello! I’m Estel, son of Lord Elrond of Imladris,” Estel greeted, giving a proper bow.

“At your service,” he finished.

“Fili.”

“And Kili.”

“At your service,” they finished in stereo.

“Ori, at your service,” Ori introduced.

Bilbo gave a small bow in return and Estel blinked _down_ at him curiously.

“Bilbo can’t talk,” Ori explained.

Bilbo smiled and Estel immediately grabbed him and hugged him.

Bilbo thought it showed great restraint when the five watching didn’t _immediately_ break down laughing.

They waited five seconds.

Bilbo is pretty sure he’s going to have to hurt them later.

Estel just stared at them in confusion, not comprehending they were laughing at how he was hugging Bilbo to his chest like one would hug a disgruntled cat.

It was, to say the least, an irritating situation.

*~*~*~*~*

“You have to admit, Bilbo, it was pretty funny,” Kili stated, not bothering to hide his grin.

It had taken them an hour to calm down enough to even think of heading back.

And that was _after_ Glorfindel, a tall and timeless elf with a warm smile on his face, had managed to get Estel to leave Bilbo alone, despite the young child wanting to drag Bilbo through Rivendell and back to his lessons.

Fili walked in front of Bilbo and beside him, Ori was stifling his snickers.

Bilbo just plotted his vengeance while ignoring their snickers.

And the later laughter from the rest of the Company.

Oh, yes.

Bilbo’s Took blood cried for vengeance and, just this once, he would give into the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elladan and Elrohir terrified me.
> 
> Just letting you know.


	17. Of Books and Scrolls and Scribes

Bilbo sighed as he traced over the bound notebook he had been given by Elrond after he agreed to sneak Ori to the library.

They had run into Elrond along the way and Elrond had given it to him, explaining that it would help in his communicating with the others who did not understand his gestures. When Bilbo had nervously tried to give it back, Elrond had insisted, saying that he could not, in good conscience, allow one of his guests be without communication to those around him. Bilbo had accepted it then, mostly because he did not think that Elrond would let him get away with not having it.

Ori had watched that all with a look on his face. One he usually got when facing something new and trying to figure it out.

With the proper smile and gesture of appreciation, Bilbo and Ori left Elrond’s presence and disappeared in the library. The keeper of the library glanced up at their entrance and Ori scrambled around to hide behind Bilbo, or attempt it, and Bilbo’s desire to avenge himself against Ori died.

But not against Fili and Kili.

They kept picking him up and hugging him to their chests like he was some sort-of doll while laughing and that had only tempered his resolve to seek his vengeance. He had already plotted against them and was focused on maybe putting something sticky in their hair.

Not their clothes though.

Hair was easier to mess up.

And not if they were sleeping outside.

Bilbo wanted vengeance, not cruelty.

He smiled and gave a polite bow to the elf and gently nudged Ori, nodding pointedly. “Oh, right. My apologies Master Elf. I am Ori, and this is Bilbo Baggins. May we look at some of the Westron scrolls and books?” he asked.

“Are your hands clean?” he asked and Ori shifted nervously before showing ink stained hands, Bilbo’s only slightly cleaner.

The elf, dark haired and imposing, gave a nod. “Down the east wall,” he stated and focused on his books.

“Thank you, sir,” Ori answered and grabbed Bilbo’s arm before dragging him off.

Just as well.

Bilbo wanted to see the books and such too.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“What do your original hand signs mean?” Ori asked and Bilbo looked up from the book he was reading.

Bilbo carefully shut the book and set it to the side, before he pulled out the book Elrond gave him and Ori carefully rolled up the scroll he was reading, setting it to the side. Ori provided the ink and pen and Bilbo smiled his thanks. He then made a fist and touched it to his forehead.

 _Father_ was written and Ori copied the motion.

Bilbo nodded and then touched two fingers to his lips.

“Mother?” Ori questioned and Bilbo nodded.

“I never knew either of mine. Do you have one for older brothers that mother-hen you?” he asked.

Bilbo thought for a moment and made a fist before he tapped it against his lips, gently, almost as if he was kissing it. Ori grinned and copied him.

By the time Dori came hunting for them at around dinnertime, the pair having missed every meal but breakfast, pen, quill, and notebook had been almost entirely forgotten, the pair speaking almost entirely in gesture. When Dori stepped forward, Ori looked up and made tapped his fist to his mouth. Bilbo turned and smiled, giving a polite nod of his head.

“Dinner you two,” Dori stated and the pair of bookworms shared a surprised look before carefully putting their scrolls and books away, Ori reclaiming his quill and ink while Bilbo pocketed his book.

And the pair followed after him once everything was clean in their little corner of the library.

When Dori glanced back, he saw the pair returning to their conversation from before.

If it weren’t for the need of their hands, and the fact Bifur was refusing to let Bilbo go, as out of his sight was apparently not sufficient, Dori was sure that the conversation would have continued throughout dinner.

He was glad Ori had made a friend within the Company, even if it was not the one that Dori would have picked for his baby brother.

But, better he bond with Bilbo over one of the Elves, which had been Dori’s fear.

Crisis averted _there_ at least.

Across the dinner table, Ori made a gesture, as if he was turning a page of a book.

Bilbo only smiled from where Bifur had one arm around him and gave a slight nod.

And Ori grinned and settled into his food, his grin disappearing upon realizing Dori had given him _more_ green food.

Again.

Maybe when Bilbo got his vengeance on Fili and Kili, he’d give Ori some ideas of how to get some independence from his brothers.

Just a bit.

*~*~*~*~*

Ori peeked into the library, Bilbo giving a silent sigh over that. “He’s there!” Ori squeaked and shoved himself against the wall, hiding from the doorway.

_“And?”_

“What…what do I say? What do I do? Should I even…what should I do?” Ori hissed.

Bilbo looked away and Ori wondered if he had said something wrong. Bilbo only got _that_ look in his eye when he thought about his mother, usually. And then Bilbo gave a silent sigh and waved a bit, Ori following calmly.

They searched all through the gardens, carefully, for something and Bilbo finally found a white daisy and a small…well, he said it was a lilac and somewhere got a yellow ribbon, very thin to tie them together before dragging Ori back.

“What is two flowers going to do?” Ori squeaked out.

Bilbo just gently pushed him in and Ori stalled, staring at him before turning to Bilbo. Bilbo shooed him forward and Ori walked towards the elf who was sorting books.

“Um…excuse me?” Ori called and the elf looked over at him, tall and imposing, dark hair like the comforting shadows of his mines from home.

“Yes Master Dwarf?” he questioned.

“Good morning. I’m Ori and these are for you, andpleaseacceptthemasatokenofmyesteemforyou,” Ori greeted and held them out to the elf, feeling his face burn red.

He wasn’t even looking at the elf, at least…not until he felt the flowers being removed from his hand. He stared up to see the elf smiling at him.

“Thank you. I’m Erestor,” he responded and Ori made an undignified sound before he ducked his head down in embarrassment.

So he did not see the way Bilbo raised an eyebrow in warning or the way Erestor nodded in understanding.

And Bilbo smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I has ingenious-spark as MY sounding board and cheerleader too!
> 
> And sparks is the bestest of the best! (And I don't care that 'bestest' isn't a word. I like it.)
> 
> So...I'm bad at this, so thank you sparks!
> 
> *grins and runs off to write more*
> 
> Also, Daisy means 'innocence' and lilac means 'first love.'
> 
> Innocent first love.
> 
> Bilbo's helping Ori while telling the Elf that it is probably not serious and he's too young, don't even think about it.
> 
> Yellow is sunshiny and intellect.
> 
> Bilbo knows his stuff.
> 
> (So do I, actually. Flower language is glorious and beautiful. And _really_ complex.)


	18. Sword Lessons

The Company settled into an open area for weapons training.

Well, except for Bilbo and Ori, who were in the library, the bookworms. After about an hour, Thorin had resheathed his sword, Orcist, and looked ready to go get them before Balin said he would get them, maybe even have Bilbo learn how to at least hold the letter opener Gandalf had given him.

Ori and Bilbo had come, Ori sulking obviously and refusing to take part in anything, focusing on his journal (though not one Fili had ever seen before), Bilbo strapping his letter opener, properly, around his waist as he walked. Ori glanced at him and Bilbo smiled before flicking his hand in a manner that had Bifur frowning in confusion.

He called in Khazadul and Bilbo looked up, before flashing a sign at Bifur, which had him nodding a bit and then turning to swing on Bofur, who quickly dodged.

Fili did _not_ understand their ‘training’ methods and was quickly pulled out of his thoughts when Thorin called, “Fili!”

That was his only warning before Thorin was “attacking” and Fili brought up a hasty block.

Then again, maybe he did.

They went like that for a while until Thorin nodded to Kili, who drew his sword in return, allowing Fili to have a breather, which caused him to turn to look at where Bilbo was watching them with interest, holding his ‘letter-opener’ in his hand loosely.

"That's not how you hold it," Fili stated and Bilbo glared at him.

Violently.

He then looked up at where Thorin and Kili were going at it and shifted his hand again, obviously trying to copy their grip.

“Still wrong,” Fili supplied.

Bilbo glared at him again before he made a series of gestures that left Fili and, quite possibly, the rest of their Company confused. Fili gave an apologetic smile and a shrug. “Sorry,” he said and Bilbo let out a low huff which almost…

Fili would swear that, if he could speak, it would have been ‘of course,’ in a weary acceptance.

Fili felt guilty (something he rarely felt, but seemed to feel most often in regards to anything he did to Bilbo; except the hugging thing), because Bilbo got _that_ look in his eyes, the one he got whenever something involving his family was brought up, usually by Gandalf.

“He _said_ , ‘if you are so inclined to tell me I am wrong, would you also be so inclined to actually correct me or continue laughing’,” Ori translated and they stared at him, including Bilbo and Ori sighed.

“Okay, I embellished a little, but that is essentially what he said,” Ori stated and went back to whatever he was doing.

“You…you can understand his signs?” Fili asked, surprised and Ori shot him an irritated look.

“Of course I can. Well, his old signs, the ones he was using in the Shire. Bifur’s been teaching him something else,” Ori said, glancing warily over to where Bifur just sent Bofur sprawling across the grass, the hat wearing miner laughing brightly as he did so before he hopped up and Bombur brought out his iron ladle and Bifur picked up his boar spear.

“Bifur’s been teaching our Hobbit Iglishmek, from his area, and possibly with differences that his brain has created, or even those just within the family,” Thorin rumbled and he glanced over at Bilbo then, and Fili felt Bilbo still, as if he was trying to disappear (which was, Fili knew, quite impossible).

“Which would make sense, as that is what those braids mean. You two would know that if you _paid attention_ during those lessons,” Thorin stated and Fili hid his amused smile over Kili’s irritated face behind Thorin’s back.

“Stop looking like that Kili. Balin, teach the Halfling how to use that blade of his before he takes off his own hand on accident,” Thorin ordered and Fili sighed as he drew his second sword, twirling it slightly as Thorin gave a nod.

“Oh, no,” Kili stated and Fili grinned, even as Kili steadied himself.

“Get one of Fili’s hunting knives,” Thorin ordered and Kili walked over to him and pulled the one out of the right boot with a grin before he went back.

“I hate this part of training,” Kili muttered.

“Good. Begin,” Thorin ordered.

Much to Fili’s surprise, Kili took the offensive, something he never did in their spars. He had to move quickly to block the incoming knife and parried, moving in for a strike on Kili’s shoulder, only to have Kili disengage the knife from the sword and spin it up to parry the sword blade away while swinging with the sword, forcing Fili to back off so he could block fast enough, unable to push any advantage, attacking when he could.

It was a clash of blades and tunnel vision.

It was wonderful, actually, since Kili had vastly improved since the last time they sparred.

But not enough.

When Kili extended his arm too far, Fili ducked in and, in the opening, placed the sword blade against the armored collarbone. “You lose,” Fili stated.

“Not, entirely,” Kili stated and Fili felt something press against his side and he glanced down to find that Kili had managed to place the, borrowed, knife against Fili’s side.

He was surprised at that.

“Get water you two,” Thorin ordered and they gave a nod, backing off, while Fili sheathed his swords, and Kili sheathed his sword before flipping the knife around so the handle was presented to Fili. He grinned and took it back, sheathing it in the proper place before he glanced over and hid his grin, tapping Kili’s shoulder and nodding.

Kili turned and shoved his hand over his mouth to hide his snickers.

Bilbo was holding his blade with both hands and standing, but it was obvious he wasn’t comfortable with this. Thorin was watching with a critical eye, if his stance was anything to go off of (and that wiped the mirth out of Fili, because Thorin didn’t _like_ Bilbo, could barely stand him, if at all), and Bilbo was _trying_.

He was trying to follow Balin’s gentle instructions and Fili, aching in a good way, tapped Kili and nodded. They got some water and Fili shifted his head before he blinked in surprise.

Fili then walked over, ignoring Kili’s hiss and Thorin’s glance. He reached around Bilbo, like how his mother had with him, and carefully shifted Bilbo’s grip so the left hand was right below the guard and the right was on the pommel, and then shifted Bilbo’s entire weight and posture with shifts and such, tapping Bilbo’s ankle lightly with his boot to get him to move to the proper place, moving his hands to Bilbo’s hips to move them.

Yes, it was all without Bilbo’s permission, and really, Bifur or Bofur might kill him later, but he would deal with that _later_.

“There,” Fili stated and stepped around to see how Bilbo was standing, grinning a bit, and ignoring everyone’s surprised looks, though Bilbo was staring at his hands as if they were something mystical.

Balin, however, looked up at Fili with a thankful air.

Balin forgot how to shift his weight when going with the other hand, the reason Fili’s mother had taught him how to use a sword at first.

He inherited more than her steady nature from her; he inherited the left-hand dominance as well. “Fili, help the Halfling (and here, Fili saw the slight tense in Bilbo’s stance, as if he had just been slapped) how to use his blade,” he stated and Fili nodded, drawing his sword.

Bilbo’s eyes widened in fear and Kili cackled in the background.

Fili is sure that the only reason Bilbo doesn’t glare at Kili is because he doesn’t want to look away from Fili.

“Don’t worry. I won’t be attacking you,” Fili stated and Bilbo relaxed.

“Yet,” Fili stated and Bilbo tensed and Fili smiled at him before he brought his sword into the first guard.

And grinned as Bilbo naturally stepped forward, 'casting' slightly in his movements so the energy was going _past_ Fili, as Balin had instructed, and their blades met.

And did not bounce.

Bilbo perked up instantly and Fili spun the blades around, carefully, smiling at how Bilbo was now in the perfect position to aim for guard number two. And Fili gave it, beaming as Bilbo stepped forward, doing the same as before, while Fili stepped back.

And they went through the first four blocks (because Fili did _not_ want Bilbo aiming at his head, but the upper arms and legs were fine) until Fili showed Bilbo how he could attack while backing up.

Fili was about to get him to start blocking when Balin’s hand came down on his shoulder. “Time for luncheon,” Balin stated and Fili blinked before he looked around to see Bofur was there with Bilbo, standing there and grinning brightly over how…innocently excited Bilbo was.

But, aside from Balin, Bofur, Bilbo, and himself (well, and Kili, but he was focused on his archery and only _he_ could get Kili out of it without his brother snapping in irritation and in Khazadul at the interrupter), no one else was there.

Though, when he looked up, he found Thorin watching them.

He then looked at Balin and nodded. “I’ll get Kili,” he stated and there was the sound of a crash from above.

Bofur immeidatly looked up, glanced at Bilbo, who gave a nod and Bofur tore off.

Well, that solved the problem of getting Kili.

The crash was enough to bring the dark haired Dwarf out of his focus and Fili watched as Bilbo left quickly, once he had sheathed his sword (for in the Hobbit’s hands, that was what it was), undoing it as he went.

When the three remaining of their Company finally got up to where everyone else was, it was to the sight of Bofur and Bombur holding Bifur tightly, Bofur whispering something, while Bilbo gestured something over and over again.

Bilbo, who had a cuts, cuts with pieces of _something_ in them, from his hand to his elbow, and even cutting up his shoulder somewhat.

It took Fili a while to notice how there was also a cut at Bilbo’s hairline and clay pieces _in_ his hair.

Fili wanted to ask, but considering how still, and _silent_ everyone else was, that was a bad idea.

Bifur struggled for a little while more, snarling out vile curses and promises of vengence, before he relaxed. He then fought one of his arms free from Bofur and reached out, hesitantly, almost apologetically, touching the cut on Bilbo’s head.

And Bilbo just gently leaned into the touch, relaxing.

And Fili wondered what happened between Bilbo rushing off to here and them getting here.

He had a feeling, however, that he would hear about.

Later.

In the meantime, Bofur and Bombur were getting Bifur _elsewhere_ , Bilbo going with them, but favoring his left arm rather obviously in pain, and Ori following after, easily ducking away from Dori’s reaching hand. Kili moved to follow as well, but Fili’s hand snapped out and stopped him.

“I wouldn’t laddie. Bifur’s having a rather poor day it seems,” Balin warned.

Kili stared after them, before his eyes fell to the ground.

Fili didn’t try and stop him when he began to pick up the shards, some of them clean, some bloody, as if they would tell him what happened.

“Well, I guess sword practice is out tomorrow,” Fili quipped and that earned some laughter.

Fili, once more, ignored Thorin’s heavy gaze on his back.

At least, this time, it felt approving instead of questioning.


	19. Distant Looks

It had been a fight, slightly, on Ori’s part, but Bifur did allow Ori to take Bilbo to Lord Elrond.

Lord Elrond, who had taken one look at the blood trail and immediately ushered Bilbo into a healing room, though he made Ori sit outside to wait.

Bilbo was quite thankful for that, though he resisted all efforts to get the shirt off of him before Elrond promptly told him it would either be removed over his head or cut off with a dagger, and it was Bilbo’s choice on which.

He chose to remove it with help from Elrond, after Elrond had carefully picked the shards of clay vase out of his hair. Elrond did not ask what had caused the injuries, but he did pause when he saw the raised scars the jaws of a white wolf had left on Bilbo’s right arm, the first set a hand’s width below the elbow and the other half a hand’s width above. “The Fell Winter?” Elrond asked and Bilbo nodded sharply, not looking at it pointedly.

He would not be sleeping tonight, because he did not want Bifur thinking that his nightmares were the toymaker’s fault. The warrior toymaker.

That rather amused Bilbo, at times.

Elrond let out a low sigh and got a tray of things to settle on the table next to the bed and set to work. Bilbo kept perfectly still, letting Elrond work, each shard being removed with the ease that must have come from at least an _Age_ of practice.

Bilbo winced as the largest of the shards was carefully extracted from his arm and then Elrond began to murmur in Sindarian. Satisfied with whatever it was he had done, he began to spread a thick paste over the injuries. “So, how did this happen?” Elrond questioned lightly.

He wondered if Elrond had ever met his mother, because the way he asked suggested he wanted to hunt whoever it was down, as if that would appease his mother’s spirit in the Halls.

Bilbo thought he must have, though, from the way Elladan and Elrohir spoke of her. Bilbo let out a low sigh and signed, _“Day terror accident.”_

Elrond let out a low hum of what could be understanding as he wrapped Bilbo’s arm in layers of padding and linen over the salve, a frown on his face, before he carefully tied it off at Bilbo’s wrist, doing another set for his hand, making sure it was useable. “This will take a while to heal, a fortnight at least. And that is if the bindings stay in place till they need to be changed, and they are changed in a clean area. If they come off while you travel or get harmed in anyway, you’ll have to find a way to clean them out before you wrap them up again,” Elrond instructed gently and the Elf lord sighed over the cut on his forehead as well before he set about healing that too.

And then unwrapped Bilbo’s neck, fixing that as well, making an approving sound over what the salves had already done.

He glanced down at Bilbo’s feet, as if tempted to grab them and make sure that there were no cuts there (which both amused and humiliated Bilbo, as he was a middle-aged Hobbit, thank you very much), but he refrained (much to Bilbo’s relief).

He, instead, gave Bilbo another shirt, this also in Bilbo’s size, and walked to the door. Elrond considered it for a moment and then opened it so that he was standing behind the door as Ori tumbled in.

The young scribe smiled nervously up at Elrond, but Elrond merely gave a smile back. “Bilbo is free to go. Please ask your Company’s healer to not disrupt my bandaging, no matter how much he may distrust Elf work,” he requested and Ori nodded as he stood up.

Bilbo, however, merely smiled a bit. “ _I’m returning to where my unit rests. Ori was my escort here_ ,” he gestured and Ori squeaked a bit, tugging nervously at Bilbo’s new shirt that Elrond had given him.

“Is that…wise?” Ori asked, taking in the fact that Bilbo now had obvious bandages around his forehead, neck, left lower arm and hand.

Bilbo only nodded and Ori tugged nervously at his cardigan, eyes searching Bilbo’s, who stared back calmly. “Can you? I mean…the cold…,” Ori asked, before he glanced nervously at Elrond, who was watching the pair intently, though the Elf’s eyes were resting on his right arm, specifically, as if things were slipping into place.

Bilbo merely nodded and gently poked Ori, getting him moving. The scribe grinned and glanced longingly in the direction of the library.

Bilbo _really_ hoped that he did not end up regretting helping Ori with this. Because, Bilbo…

Well, Bilbo did _not_ want Ori ending up like him.

Not…hurt and battered by failed courtings.

Courtings that Bilbo should have known better than to attempt, useless endeavors from the beginning, but Bilbo had foolishly, _stupidly_ , attempted anyway. Even though he had _known_ that it was entirely _idiotic_ and that _none_ would want _him_ …

“Bilbo, you have that look in your eyes again,” Ori stated and Bilbo raised an eyebrow at him, knocked out of his thoughts, surprised that they had stopped moving.

“That look you get. You got it when I asked what I should do with Erestor, same as the one you get every time you gesture about your mother, or anything like that,” Ori explained softly.

Bilbo blinked a bit and then gave a small shrug. Ori stared at him, and then gently tapped his forehead against Bilbo’s, surprising the Hobbit.

It was an affectionate gesture, Bilbo knew that. He had seen Balin and Dwalin greet each other with might _thwacks_ and they definitely cared for each other.

“I don’t know you very well. I don’t…and I really hope that we get to change that. But…I have a feeling that the things that make you go away aren’t things you’ll share,” Ori stated, his voice echoing only slightly in the empty corridor.

_“Not with ease.”_

Ori nodded a bit and tugged at his cardigan nervously. “We should probably hurry to Bofur, shouldn’t we?” Ori answered.

And Bilbo nodded.

Ori quickly went back to leading the way and Bilbo followed.

As they neared the area Bofur, Bombur, and Bifur had claimed, with Bilbo following willingly, Bilbo caught Ori. Ori turned to him, confused and was surprised when Bilbo, gently, returned the gesture. He then turned Ori around and pushed him towards where he slept.

And with that, Bilbo entered the area, both surprised and not when Bifur grabbed him by the uninjured arm and hauled him in fully. Bifur was carefully as he tugged Bilbo down and carefully began to unbraid Bilbo’s hair before brushing it out. And Bilbo just let him do what he wished to reassure himself that Bilbo did, in fact, forgive him, and his eyes half closed at the gentle movements, ones he had memorized by now, and even was allowed to use Bofur as practice in the early mornings for different braids, Bofur talking him quietly through them and telling him what they meant, though he stumbled over the ones for ‘beloved’ and ‘husband’.

He had turned red at the ears over ‘wife’.

There were others, ones that Bofur said Bifur would have to teach when in a good mindset.

He barely noticed when the braiding was done, slipping into a doze as he carefully curled against Bifur.

It was nice.

And with that, Bilbo slipped into sleep.


	20. A Vision

Thorin watched, silent and hidden, as Bilbo winced and curled around his arm, in obvious pain.

He was clutching tightly to it, out of the way.

Thorin watched, because he did not understand the Halfling. He was not Dwarf, he had no understanding of the culture, but he had taken it all in stride. While his gestures were not ones that Thorin knew, at least until he switched to Bifur’s clan’s Iglishmek (though the signs that were not known to him were not so difficult that he could not figure out the meaning from the context, usually), Thorin knew that he only ‘spoke’ of the Shire when prompted. Thorin knew that this Hobbit missed his home, however, a distant longing sometimes overtaking his eyes as he looked into the distance, away from Erebor.

Why?

Why had he chased them down, only to regret it?

Thorin _did_ know that he complained about the travel and such, but Bofur and Bombur were there to ease it away, while Bifur, he knew, had been planning on showing Bilbo how to whittle.

He knew that the three had taken Bilbo in, pulled him into their family, and he felt that it had to do with the Iglishmek. Had folded him in, and now, he did not understand why Bilbo, instead of seeking aide from Oin, was suffering alone. He continued to watch, until Kili appeared. “Fili,” he called and then walked over to where Bilbo was attempting to straighten, but couldn’t.

“Come one Bilbo. Let’s get you elsewhere,” Kili stated and began to urge Bilbo into moving.

Thorin watched them leave and was about to see if he could follow when a young and small voice behind him called, “Excuse me.”

He turned and found that a small boy was standing there. The boy hesitated and Thorin gave a small nod. The boy perked up. “Are you Thorin Oakenshield?” he questioned.

“Yes,” Thorin answered.

The boy perked up. “I’m Estel,” he greeted.

Thorin gave a small smile and another nod. Estel hesitated and then walked forward. Thorin sat down on a bench and Estel hopped up next to him. “I was told that you’re a king,” Estel stated and Thorin gave a small nod.

“A crownless one, however,” Thorin stated.

“Why?” Estel asked.

It is an innocent question. It is one that, once upon a time, Fili and Kili had asked, so close they were practically twins. They might as well have been, they were born so close that they could not be separated for any length of time without the pair started to stop fully functioning, as if they were missing a vital organ or had an ax blade lodged in their skulls. It was one that Thorin knew how to answer.

“Once, a long time ago, long before you were born, there was a great Dwarven kingdom called Erebor…” Thorin began and Estel was riveted.

Even if he was an Elvish child, he was a child.

Thorin could not hold his birth against him, not yet.

*~*~*~*

Ori peeked around a bookcase at Erestor before he ducked back, deeply ashamed of the fact he was _peeking_ on the Elf, instead of just speaking with him.

He twisted his cardigan around his fingers as he stared at the books.

Books…books he knew. Books were safe. Books would not laugh at his attempts to see if they could be his One. Scrolls would not mock him, and words written in ink would not fail him.

Erestor was an _Elf_. He was _mad_ , he was, even doing this.

But he remembered, distantly, how _surprised_ Erestor had been when he had presented the, second, flowers, after dinner. Getting away from Dori had been near impossible, and he had used some of his yarn to tie a slightly bigger group of lilacs and daisies, and he had given it to Erestor, face red, explaining he had not thought two was enough.

He continued to twist his fingers in the cardigan. Continued to hold onto this, shaking a bit, and then he opened the thin covered book. He opened it carefully and, gently, slowly, removed a picture.

It was a picture of Erestor, and it was probably weird, giving someone a picture of themselves, but it was all he could offer, except pretty words, and there were probably far prettier words in the books on the shelves, or in the scrolls, then what he could write.

He glanced back around, saw Erestor and carefully hid the thin covered book away with all his other drawings, before he approached Erestor. “Erestor?” he called and Erestor looked up.

Erestor was still imposing, but Ori’s eyes were fixated on his hair.

Or, specifically, the daisy tucked in it.

“Ori,” Erestor greeted in return.

Ori looked at the picture and then back up at Erestor. “I know I’m young, and silly. I know…I know you might not ever return my affection, and, quite possibly my affection might never bloom into anything more. I…I don’t know. But…I want to give this to you. So you always know that this is how I see you,” Ori explained and held out the drawing.

Erestor took, surprise there in the shift of his eyebrows, the slight parting of his lips, and, once the drawing had left Ori’s hands, he left quickly.

Mostly to hide how red his face was going.

The rest of him didn’t want to see Erestor’s reaction to the picture.


	21. What Happened (Some Descriptive Medical Gore)

Oin looked up as Fili and Kili walked up to him, making sure to keep their Burglar moving toward him. He was curled over his arm, clinging tightly to it, and even from here he could see where the blood was spreading through the bandaging and Bilbo is helped to sit down. Gloin gets Oin his things while Oin has Kili strip out of his outer armor, and wash his hands, along with Oin, before Oin gently urges Bilbo’s arm out so he can undo the bandages, ordering Fili to hold Bilbo still like he does with his brother. Fili is careful as he sits so Bilbo is in front of him, wrapping one arm so it pins Bilbo’s uninjured arm to his side, while Fili holds Bilbo’s injured arm just above the elbow so it doesn’t curl in on accident.

Bilbo is quiet and Fili eyes Bilbo’s legs before obviously deciding not to curl his own legs over the Hobbit’s to prevent kicking, mostly because Bilbo had actually made sure his ankles were already trapped.

Apparently, their Burglar had been through this before.

Oin opens his case while Kili looks on, Oin gently pulling out a thin needle and a vial of liquid. He carefully coats the needle in the liquid and carefully begins to tap it into Bilbo’s arm, Kili’s eyes widening in astonishment. “This is a numbing agent. I need to clean this up more. Also, I wish to look at some of these cuts a bit more. I trust Lord Elrond did his job, but road…we’ll need stitches. And sometimes, small things get caught. Kili, you might not want to look,” Oin stated, even as he began to gently tap Bilbo’s arm, waiting until Bilbo shook his head when Oin asked if it hurt.

Kili squeaked and looked away as Oin pulled out fine metal tweezers, noticing that Fili’s eyes were closed tightly, while Bilbo just had his eyes closed lightly.

He had done this before, definitely.

Oin resisted the urge to chuckle.

He had learned, with time, that often the most reserved or frigidity or _controlled_ they were as adults, the wilder they were in their youth. He immediately pulled out the proper items so he could look closely at the wounds. He carefully, and gently, inspected each one, Gloin wiping the blood away so Oin had an unobstructed view as possible and…

“Ah-ha!” Oin exclaimed and carefully worked the tweezers in, gently, carefully, grasping the piece. He began to carefully, cautiously, pull it out, his free hand tightening on Bilbo’s wrist.

The numbing didn’t go deep enough apparently and Oin, carefully, continued to extract the broken shard from Bilbo’s arm. There were soft whimpers coming from Bilbo and he worked slowly, carefully, wincing at the wellspring of blood that followed, setting the shard into the bowl that was attached to his case.

Gloin was pressing on it, until Oin urged his hand away, twisting his head to listen carefully, letting the tweezers searching for him, hoping that there was no small piece left, and Bilbo had quieted, but the small jerks from Oin’s firm grip on his wrist told him Bilbo was there, but there was no clink of metal on clay and Oin nodded to Gloin, who pressed down firmly on the bleeding wound while Oin continued to search. The rest were not nearly so long, or went so deep, but they were small and easy to miss. And Oin _would’ve_ missed them, if the tweezers didn’t clink against the clay. He carefully continued to remove them until they were gone.

Now, with the tweezers set to the side (he would clean them fully and properly _later_ , there was no time now), he smacked Kili. “Open your eyes and get the stitching thread. And then get out _everything_ with a blue wax seal on them,” he ordered, as Gloin was busy.

Kili shifted and obeyed, setting them in his eye sight. He glanced at each salve, and bottle, nodding in appreciation at the tallest, and thinnest, bottle. “Pain level manageable Bilbo?” Oin asked gently and looked up to see someone that made him think far, far, too much of lost little children, who were too young to be in this much pain and suffer through it with clenched eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

But Bilbo nodded and Oin nodded to Kili, talking him through the process of cleaning off each injury, though Gloin was hesitant to move the pressure he had on the deepest wound, he was relieved when it was only bleeding sluggishly now, nearly stopped in fact. “Fili, get your leg around the Hobbit’s legs. He’s going to thrash in a bit,” Oin warned and tightened his grip on Bilbo’s wrist in preparation. “Kili, start with that large cut there,” Oin ordered, once he had the thin bottle in hand, Gloin holding the cloth under Bilbo's arm while Kili had a cloth wet with an infection fighter.

Kili hesitated, but he obeyed and Bilbo’s automatic reaction was to thrash away from the pain, but Oin, and Fili, were prepared and were able to keep him from accidentally hurting anyone, or himself. It didn't help that, as Kili started patting, Oin was working on doing some minor flushing of the largest injury.

“I’m sorry,” Kili stated, but continued and Oin nodded in approval, as well as his own apology, though he focused on flushing the wound, wincing at the dark pink blood and flush mixture that was starting to stain the cloth Gloin was holding.

Maybe he would make Kili his apprentice during the journey.

It couldn’t hurt.

“Good touch there laddie. Don’t you worry about it, our Burglar forgives you, don’t you lad?” Oin stated and Bilbo nodded, having controlled his natural instinct once Oin and finished flushing as best he could.

Oin was a touch proud of the gentle Hobbit in that moment.

Of course, he was far more proud of the fact Bilbo was just a forgiving sort. He had seen how cheerful, or as cheerful as the half-mad Dwarf ever showed, Bifur was this morning when they had joined in breakfast, even as Oin noted that Thorin was getting edgier the closer they got to the night of the crescent moon needed to read the Moon Runes.

He smiled then had Kili thread the stitching thread into the needle and instructed him on the length (a bit longer then was probably needed, but better longer than too short) and instructs Kili on how to tie it off before he takes the thread from Kili and begins to stitch up the worst of it as quickly and painlessly as possible.

Gloin is there to carefully pat at the stitches, and, when he’s finished stitching it up, he ties it off before giving a quick cut with the thin blade that is perfectly sharpened so it goes through the stitching thread like a hot knife through butter.

He smiles a bit and then gives out the next instructions, letting Gloin carefully pat the blood drops away until Bilbo is fully ready to get his arm bandaged up. “Kili, there should be a sling tucked into the top of my case. Bring that here. Bifur will fuss over, but it is for the best laddie. At least for the next three days. I’ll check over your injuries twice a day, and any time blood starts peeking through, I want you to come straight to me. I need to see how you are faring with my own eyes,” Oin instructed, and then begins to set, carefully, a thick salve to the cuts without a need for stitches, including on the Hobbit’s hand and, with a wince, on his wrist as well, but there was little Oin could do about that.

Only a small bit of blood had come of it, but Bilbo, who is able to look now, merely smiles in understanding.

“Had a rough childhood then?” Oin asks.

Bilbo’s eyes shift away from him and his nod is slow, hesitant.

Oin wonders if it was less adventures and more like bad blood between him and another.

He hears a voice, but it is like listening underwater. Gloin’s voice, pitched low and rough, he understands, however.

Can hear it clear as a bell.

“Bifur…Bifur suddenly snapped. We’d know it’d happen. Got the blade at the gates of Moria he did, answering the call that was sent out then too. Didn’t bring his cousins of course, and this time…this time it was Bofur who came, bringing them with him. Odd sort. A miner that turned toymaker after what happened in Moria, then went back to mining once his cousin could make toys once more. More money, in toys, and he had a _gift_ of it too. Never knew why he didn’t do it before,” Gloin stated, rambling as he was wont to do instead of just _answering_ the question.

There was another thing, like a ripple of water, sound through it, and Oin huffed a bit as he tapped a numbing bit of salve around the stitches, to keep it numb still the skin settled some about them, but also to keep the infection away.

“Maybe he did become a miner so that at least one kept to the roots. Not that, once Bifur was on his feet, his sales went down. Odd things, but children loved them just as much as Bofur’s and Bofur returned to the mines till this all happened. And he came, said something about ‘possible change of fortune’ followed by him also, according to him, being told that the beer being free. It was amusing. Not the truth by the long shot, but there were three good Dwarves. Not Longbeards but they were ready to go to someplace that, to my knowledge, they had never been in, except for maybe Bifur. Maybe that was why they came. To give something back to Bifur. Well, doesn’t matter. The fact is, we knew it could happen and it was possible that it could just be something in his head. Bombur tried, of course, to calm him down, and Bofur came up and worked on it too. But…Bifur was riled something awful and they were talking to him in Khazadul, trying to calm him down, and Bilbo walks in, at just the wrong time. Mind, we were all keeping still, even Thorin, ‘cause in that state, he can only see the braids, and he hauls this vase, empty because they were probably changing out the flowers or something, right at Bilbo.

“And he stills, like he’s watching a nightmare, but then so do Bofur and Bombur, looking horrified, and Bilbo doesn’t see the thing flying towards his head till he can’t dodge. So he throws up his left arm and it ducks his head a bit, eyes screwed shut, and it shatters against his arm. Shards digging into arm, nasty business. And the minute there are no more shards raining down on him, Bilbo lowers his arm, eyes open, and walks over. That wakes all three up, luckily Bofur and Bombur before Bifur, and they grab him then. And Bifur is snarling up a storm, demanding vengeance and such, and Bilbo sits in front of him as they got him half on the ground and that gets Bifur the rest of the way, and he just starts signing something. And Bofur is talking. Bombur is quiet, you know that, and then you two, and Balin, get up there, and you know the rest. Well, at least till Ori followed them. Scribe’s lucky Bifur didn’t try to kill him,” Gloin explained.

Finally.

Couldn’t he just answer a question instead of wandering around it for a time?

There was more water speech and Gloin laughed. “Ah, well, nothing to it. Nearly done there Oin?” Gloin questioned.

“Just need you to bandage his arm once I settle the cotton thick over the stitches. Kili, you got that sling?” Oin answered, even as he settled the cotton over the stitches, knowing Gloin would know how to bandage without causing pain.

Kili set the sling on his lap and he nodded gratefully before he watched the arm disappear under thick layer of bandages. He then began to do minor bandage work on Bilbo’s wrist and hand before he nodded to Fili to release him so Bilbo could move forward.

Oin looked over the cut on his forehead first and nodded at how easily that was healing before he touched a bit of his own salve across it and hummed before leaving it open. It wouldn’t hurt anything, the thing was fully scabbed over and healing quite nicely.

The salve would just help the healing process a bit.

He then undid the bindings around his neck and smiled at that. They were shallow cuts, really. Bad for the placement, but the healing process was good. He could already see where it had started scaring, a mix, Oin was sure, of Dwarvish and Elvish salve, and maybe even some Elf magic thrown in. He would be fully healed within a week, which was a good thing, since it was hard to care for these things on the road. He set more salve and then bandaged the neck once more. He then, carefully, helped Bilbo get his arm situated into the sling. “You good lad?” Oin asked and Bilbo nodded.

Oin gave a nod, and then waved at the three of them. “Off with you. I have instruments to clean and things to replace. Off, and away,” Oin shooed and turned to the care of his items.

Bilbo stood, unfolding up, and walked off with Fili and Kili, the pair chatting excitedly about teaching him how to use his sword in his off-hand.

Oin rolled his eyes a bit at that and began to focus on cleaning off his tweezers and the needle, pouring the pure alcohol into a different bowl before he settled them into it.

“I think our Mister Baggins is good for the young ones,” Gloin stated and Oin merely nodded absently.

He would need to talk with Dwalin later about some of those strained muscles he was hiding.

Heads like rocks, the lot of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for forgetting the flushing of the wound before.
> 
> And yes, I know, stitching probably a bad idea, but...road.
> 
> They can't do things the proper way right now, as much as Oin hates it.


	22. Discovery

Nori wandered through Rivendell, surprised that Dori had agreed to let him find Ori.

He shook his head a bit over that, wondering if he should try to get Dori to ease up on his protectiveness of Ori. However, he could understand why Dori was so protective; Ori was the spitting image of their mother, a mother Ori did not remember. He was a sight more protective of Ori then he had thought he would be when their mother was pregnant with him, but as Ori had grown older, Dori’s own protectiveness, excessive before, had grown only worse. Admittedly, Nori had gotten more protective as well, but he felt he was justified in that he had to make sure that Ori didn’t met at the wrong end of a knife held by someone who wished vengeance on Nori.

Though, Nori would prefer that Ori actually learn how to _defend himself_ instead of just protecting him at every…

Every thought fled Nori’s brain as he looked into the library to find Ori sitting next to an _Elf_.

His face was red and he was ringing his cardigan in his hands, and the Elf was talking with him companionably.

But what drew his eyes the _most_ was the scarf in his hands.

He knew that scarf.

He _saw_ Ori knitting that scarf, finishing it on their first night in Rivendell before starting another the same night. Nori pulled back slightly and listened cautiously to the talk. It was of books and scrolls.

It was _safe_.

But Nori’s eyes could not leave the scarf.

Ori only _gave_ his knitted things to people he liked, to people he _cherished_. He heard feet running and Nori pulled into the shadows as he saw Bilbo rush into the library. “Bilbo!” he heard Ori exclaim and there was silence, of course.

“What do you mean the ponies are here?” Ori asked and there was a slight exclamation from Ori.

“Bilbo, I know you’re excited, but…”

“I would enjoy seeing ponies that avoided orcs and wargs and came to Rivendell,” the Elf stated.

There was some silence and then more running as Bilbo ran back out, looking like an excited child as he ran off, followed by a less excited Ori and the Elf. Nori watched them go and, for a few moments, considered following them. He stared after them until they were gone and then turned, heading to where Dori was packing up their things, except clothes for tomorrow, and their bedrolls. “Did you find him?” Dori asked.

“With Bilbo now. Lad likes the Hobbit well enough, figured there was no harm to it,” Nori answered and Dori nodded a bit, before frowning.

“You know where they went?” Dori asked.

“I think they were going from the Library to that place with the broken sword,” Nori lied with ease.

“Why didn’t you follow them to be sure?” the eldest exclaimed as he rushed out and Nori gave a shrug, even though Dori wouldn’t see it.

He, however, had a few coin to gain from some of the more fool-hardy Elves.

And they _would_ pay up before he was to leave.

*~*~*~*

Bilbo smiled as Myrtle, for he’d know the mare anywhere, walked forward with a nicker of greeting and shoved her head straight into his chest. Behind her fifteen ponies (and one horse), dirty and weary, but _alive_ meandered around the open courtyard that was an entrance to a forested area.

Bilbo immediately began to pet her neck before he ducked around her head to hug the pony gently around her neck with his good arm. She gave a low whicker and shifted her weight before he pulled back, running fingers through her mane, Myrtle shaking her head, Ori standing open mouthed in surprise with Erestor seemed to be taking in the sight of them before he turned. “Lindir, I think we have room in our stables, do we not?” Erestor asked, turning to look back at where the dark haired Elf who had greeted them before they got circled by the Hunting Party of Elves was standing.

“I dare say we do. Though I do not think we will be able to part Master Baggins from one of them,” Lindir answered and Bilbo just gave a silent laugh before he buried his face into Myrtle’s mane.

He heard Ori walk forward with answering pony steps that Bilbo was sure was Ori’s own pony. He smiled a bit into Myrtle’s mane and she did not push against him.

Considering how impatient she usually was when she wanted food, he considered it proof she had missed him just as much as he missed her as she _wasn’t_ nosing him for food. Distantly, Bilbo could hear the exclamations of the rest of the Company and Fili and Kili’s whoop before they ran down, but Bilbo was just relieved that Myrtle was _here_ and _safe_.

Because he had not dared hope that she was even alive, but the relief that filled him upon seeing her had told him that some hope had managed to take root in his heart anyway without his knowledge.

He was just glad it was rewarded.

And with that, he pulled away and began to walk.

Myrtle followed after him, her nose pressed against his uninjured hand.

*~*~*~*

Bilbo managed to return to the stables after with his meeting with Oin, bringing with him an apple.

Myrtle was in a stall towards the back and eagerly took the apple from him, Bilbo rubbing her neck as she pulled her head back to enjoy it. “Bilbo,” Gandalf called and Bilbo looked over at him, Gandalf immediately settling a worried hand on his uninjured shoulder.

 “Elrond says the moon runes can be read tomorrow night. You will be leaving, I am sure, soon after. Whatever happened to your arm, if I may ask?”

 _“Ask the second in command of my unit,”_ Bilbo answered calmly and pat Myrtle’s neck with his good hand as Gandalf asked, “Would that be Balin, or Bofur?”

Bilbo held up two fingers and Gandalf gently reached up running gentle fingers along one of the braids. “I suspected as much. What will they say in the Shire to this tale?” Gandalf asked and Bilbo smiled a bit.

 _“Expectations, met,”_ Bilbo gestured back and then smiled a bit, pressing his forehead against Myrtle’s neck and drawing back.

She let out a low nicker and Bilbo hesitated before he scratched her cheek and turned, moving to leave the stables. “Dear Bilbo, what strength you’ve been hiding from the world,” Gandalf mused and Bilbo merely shook his head slightly before he drifted away silently, easily slipping into the shadows.

He was slipping through the shadows when he overheard Nori say, “You’re lucky _I_ found you and not Dori.”

Bilbo frowned and slipped into the shadows to see Nori standing over Ori, who was looking away.

The older Dwarf let out a long sigh and he pinched the bridge of his nose, causing Bilbo to pull out of sight. “Ori, I can understand…”

“No, you can’t! You never can! Because no one laughs at _you_! No one giggles and coos over how _cute_ you are! _You_ , you…you have a _chance_! I don’t! I _never_ did! And I know…I know it won’t…it isn’t going to go anywhere. Because I’m young. And silly. And I know…I know, I never, not if I lived to be a three hundred years old, would I ever be able to be with him, because why? Why me?” Ori snapped, his voice shaking as his words continued and Bilbo sunk further into the shadows as Ori began to openly sob, quiet, but obvious to Bilbo, who could hear him.

There was a shift of cloth and a gentle murmuring softly. “Anyone should be happy to have you Ori. They’d be lucky, huh? And you’re young. You have time,” Nori stated and there was a soft exhale and a low chuckle.

“And I’ll help Dori not find out about your little Elf crush. And who has been helping you before now? You’re usually very bad at keeping secrets?” Nori questioned.

Ori laughed, though it was watery and he answered, “Not telling. Don’t want you gutting him.”

Nori laughed, but didn’t try to change Ori’s mind. There was then the sound of another laugh. “All right. Let’s get to Dori, yeah? Before he sends out a hunting party,” Nori stated and Bilbo listened to them walk away before he slipped away, heading towards where he was sure Bombur was.

He settled next to the cook and Bombur smiled at him. “Bifur was getting antsy, so Bofur is working out his upsets,” Bombur stated and then tugged a bit at his shirt.

Bilbo moved so he was sitting in front of Bombur and smiled as he felt the braids being undone and a comb being carefully run through his hair. Bilbo’s eyes slid closed and Bombur worked on his hair, feeling the familiar twisting of his hair into his braids. He heard the soft click of the metal clasp, the tiny thing, being shut and an identical braid was done down the other side.

Once he was done, he pat Bilbo’s shoulder and Bilbo stood up slowly. He then removed the sling with a sigh and carefully rolled up his sleeve on the left arm to reveal the clean bandaging. Oin had raided Lord Elrond’s supplies, to replace what had been used and to bandage Bilbo’s arm as well. “You’ve already been to see Oin?” Bombur asked and Bilbo nodded, staring at his arm as if he could will it into healing faster.

Bombur chuckled and nodded to the bed rolls. “Best get some rest then. Move,” Bombur ordered.

Bilbo gently shoved at Bombur’s shoulder before he stood up and settled into his bed roll, not really tired, but content to doze in a place between sleeping and waking.

A place he was still at when someone settled at his back and wrapped an arm protectively around his waist. He let out a soft sigh and settled into the warmth, finally slipping fully into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....I may have gone a little overboard with the Rivendell chapters, but a few of the chapters happened on the same day.
> 
> I was enjoying exploring some of the family dynamics. I'll have to do the Dori, Nori, and Ori family dynamics on the road. (Which saddens me. I wasn't able to get to them, or Balin and Dwalin either, but we need to get a move on!)
> 
> SO, they'll be leaving soon.
> 
> For any wondering about how the Chapters translated to days on the Rivendell Arc...
> 
> Chapters 12-14 were on the same day.
> 
> The last few paragraphs of Chapter 14-16 were the same day.
> 
> Chapter 17 was a day all on its own day.
> 
> Chapters 18-19 were the same day.
> 
> Chapters 20-22 were the same day.
> 
> Chapter 23, they should be on their way to leaving.
> 
> (Also I needed to show the ponies as okay. And Myrtle may or may not be of Elvish pony stock. Just don't tell Thorin.)


	23. Leaving Rivendell

Bilbo smiled as he brushed Myrtle out in the paddock. The pony snorted quietly as Bilbo pat her shoulder with his weak arm before he carefully slid it back into the sling, placing the brush on the fence before giving Myrtle an apple. She crunched on it happily as he idly ran his fingers through her mane. “At this rate, you’ll turn into a pony and we’ll have to leave you behind,” Bofur teased and Bilbo gave a slightly rude gesture in return that had Bofur laughing uproariously.

Myrtle let out a snort and walked over to the fence where Bofur was leaning and eyed him. Before Bilbo could warn Bofur away, Myrtle reached out and grabbed his hat before taking off. “Hey now!” Bofur protested, but Myrtle merely paused to prance in place, tossing her head gently, the hat not clasped so tight in her teeth to cause tears.

Bilbo shook his head and start chasing after her, sending Myrtle running off, Bofur soon joining in the chase once he had managed to get into the paddock. Once Bofur was in the paddock, Myrtle put her head down and gave a playful buck before she loped right between them.

Her tail flicked as she narrowly dodged around Bofur and Bilbo rushed after her, smiling at the way Myrtle dodged out of Bilbo’s reach.

Eventually, breathless and laughing, one silently, they collapsed in the grass. Myrtle snorted softly at this and then dropped the, now slobbery, hat onto Bofur’s lap with a smug whinny, shaking all over. Bofur laughed, even as he used his sleeve to dry off the slobber while Bilbo sat up, reaching for Myrtle. The pony snorted quietly before she walked around, carefully settling on the ground behind them, her back to them, letting herself be used as back rest as the pair caught their breath. “That pony of yours…” Bofur stated and Bilbo just nodded in agreement

 Bofur laughed and before he reached up, still panting softly, and gently gripped Bilbo’s head, bringing their foreheads together in a light ‘thunk’. Bilbo was still trying to get his breath back, however, and found he was half panting into Bofur’s face. Bofur grinned at that and tapped his forehead against Bilbo’s again, gently, before Bofur let him go.

Bilbo felt as if there was something he missed, but Bofur was smiling as he stood and holding a hand out to him.

And Bilbo took it willingly, smiling as Bofur pulled him easily to his feet.

*~*~*~*

Bilbo wondered why Gandalf _insisted_ on dragging him into these situations.

‘These situations’ being anytime Thorin had to rely on Elrond for advice. Wasn’t it enough Gandalf had dragged him into this quest (though whether he was still mad about that or not was beside the point)?

Apparently not, because here he was, watching Thorin have to hand the map over to Elrond _again_ so the Elf Lord could read the moon runes. They had not stayed in Elrond’s grand study, but had gone down a cavern to an open area behind a waterfall where a crystal table stood, catching moonlight through the water.

Elrond carefully unfolded the map out onto the table, carefully touching it before the moonlight fully caught it, illuminating the area bright enough to make Bilbo wince slightly.

 _“Stand upon the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the key-hole,”_ Elrond recited.

Bilbo barely kept himself from facepalming when Balin and Thorin began to talk about how they still had time, and _travel_ plans. “You mean to reclaim Erebor,” Elrond stated and Thorin turned on Elrond, eyes hard. “And what is it to you?” he questioned, voice deep and like a rumble of thunder on the horizon.

“There are some who would not deem it wise.”

The warning was obvious, but Bilbo just shifted slightly.

He did not like this and Thorin had the map, Gandalf began to heard them off.

Elrond called Gandalf by the name he had addressed him as earlier and Gandalf paused, turning to the Elf Lord with a smile, leaning on his staff.

Bilbo, trapped on the side with Elrond, waited. “If you would accompany me to the Observatory?” Elrond asked.

Gandalf nodded with a smile. “Of course. After I speak to Bilbo about something. Come, come Bilbo,” Gandalf answered and ushered Bilbo up, Thorin and Balin having already moved ahead.

“Bilbo, you _must_ make sure that you, and the Company, are on the road before dawn!” Gandalf stated and Bilbo nodded.

He was sure Thorin would need no persuasion on _that_ front.

But, with this in mind, he had packing to do.

And, with that, Bilbo was off.

*~*~*~*

Ori peeked into the Library before he walked over to where Erestor was. “Ori!” Erestor exclaimed in surprise and Ori smiled brightly and sat down next to him, helping to sort the books.

Thorin had said they were leaving before first light, which meant he couldn’t stay long. “I just wanted to say ‘good night’,” Ori explained and Erestor smiled.

He then carefully set the books down and gently cupped Ori’s face before pressing a kiss to Ori’s forehead.

It was light, and gentle, like a butterfly’s wings, but Ori still flushed to the roots of his hair. “Good night, Ori,” Erestor answered and Ori smiled as Erestor gently let his hands fall.

Ori stuttered a bit before he turned redder and fled.

Or made it look that way. Peeking out from behind one of the bookshelves, he saw Erestor’s warm smile before the other turned away, focused on the books once more and Ori slipped a note with Erestor’s name on it out of his pocket and slipped it next to one of the books before he hurried out of the Library.

*~*~*~*

False dawn was spreading across the sky as the Company took to the road once more. Ori sees Bilbo pause, but he doesn’t.

But it takes everything in him not to turn around and take one last look at Erestor’s home. The only thing that keeps him looking forward is Dori’s arm around his shoulders, both comforting and overbearing at once.

It is Thorin’s shout of, “This is no time for idling Halfling!” that has Ori looking back.

But even though he doesn’t need to look back to see that Bilbo is following, he uses the chance to catch what is probably his last glance of Rivendell.

He doesn’t know why that thought makes his heart ache.

In a way, he doesn’t want to know. But it is Nori who provides the answer anyway when he hugs Ori as they walk and said, “Don’t worry laddie. Heartsickness eases with time, and quickly too.”

And Ori wonders if maybe Nori does understand after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah...yesterday I got violently ill.
> 
> Let's leave it at that.
> 
> So, Chapter 23 was delayed till I could actually write it.
> 
> Also, the scene between Bilbo, Bofur, and Myrtle is based off a horse that would steal hats. He was a pasture companion and if you wore a hat, he'd steal it off your head and take off. And once you were exhausted and gave up, he'd drop it on you. And if you ignored him, he'd keep the hat and, once tired of it, drop it on some random person's head.
> 
> By random, I mean whoever wasn't the owner of the hat.
> 
> I called him Rascal and he'd tug on my ponytail in retaliation.


	24. Thunder Battles

Bilbo gripped onto Bombur as he started to slip, the rotund Dwarf catching him just as easily and steadied them both. Bilbo smiled his thanks and Bombur gave a nod before Bilbo continued. He barely was able to keep his feet, even with the help of his walking stick and, as they wound their way up the path. They had to forgone stopping, but Bilbo’s feet were numb, so he was forced to keep his head down to watch his step. He felt Fili rush past him to catch up with Kili, which Bilbo didn’t mind, and he glanced up when a hand touched his arm, to find Bofur frowning at him.

Bilbo gave a smile and Bofur frowned a bit before he eyed Bilbo’s soaked, and no longer in a sling, arm.

Which was also numb.

Bofur frowned a bit, but Bilbo just shrugged when there was a shout of, “Watch out!”

Bilbo’s eyes snapped up and widened upon seeing the rock crashing down. Bilbo brought up his right arm up, the one with the walking stick on instinct, even as he curled further into the rock wall. Bofur pressed close and Bilbo, distantly wondered where their fourth family member was, but with it raining _stone_ as well as _sleet_ upon them, Bilbo was not able to look for him. “This is no thunder storm! This is a thunder _battle_!” someone (it sounded like Balin, but over the sleet and thunder, it was next to impossible to tell) shouted and Bofur helped keep him on his feet as they began to hurry up the path, freezing winds cutting through his far too thin cut straight through him.

And then the ground moved beneath his feet. Bilbo clung to the rocks as the mountain they were standing on… _moved_. Bilbo felt paralyzed as they swung through the air and it didn’t take long for Bilbo to realize that the ‘mountain’ was a stone giant. And then there were more rocks raining down upon them, and they were falling forward and he somehow slips, but he slips _down_ , not forward and he finds himself clinging to the rocks. Clinging to the rocks and so very thankful that his arm is numb, because otherwise he was sure that he would fall from pain that was there.

He wasn’t even sure anymore if the liquid running to his shoulder was rain or blood. He clung to the rock and heard shouts of his name, along with Hobbit and _Halfling_.

He really despised being called that but when very few could understand him, and the one who used it the most often despised him as much as Bilbo himself despised the moniker given to Hobbits by the Big Folk, it was pointless to protest being called it.

But Bofur is there, reaching for him and his right hand has a firmer grasp then his left, so he reaches with his left, stretching as best he can when he feels himself slipping again and he wishes he had a voice to shout at someone, to demand that they pull Bofur away so he didn’t see him slip and fall to his death when an arm wrapped around him before throwing him up onto the ledge.

Bofur grabs him tight and he sees Thorin being hauled up, but he’s shaking and everything is _numb_.

“Almost lost you there Bilbo,” Bofur said, burying his hand into Bilbo’s jacket.

“He’s been lost since he left home,” Thorin corrected and Bilbo really wishes he had the strength to flinch, but he doesn’t.

He’s shivering too much and then Bofur is helping him to his feet and Bilbo thinks he feels something… _tug_ at his arm, but he’s stumbling over to the rest, Bifur who eyes him over before deciding he was okay and Bombur who grabs his shoulders and _shakes_ him a bit before they are rushing into the cave that was found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I may or may not be putting off the cave scene.
> 
> Just a bit.


	25. A Shallow Cave

Oin had grabbed Bilbo the minute they were all inside and began to tug at his coat before Bilbo gently shook him off and placed his pack and such next to Bifur. Only then did he pull off his coat, wincing slightly before he rolled up his sleeve.

While soaked, Oin had thick cloths that he used to dry off his arm and, as it turned out, the pull had just been a warning. It hadn’t been anything bad, nothing coming undone, but Oin eyed these stitches as if they were the very marks of evil.

Bilbo would have laughed, were he not so exhausted.

And in pain, once the numbing from the sleet started to go away.

He had some scrapes on his knuckles and finger tips from where he had scrabbled against the rocks trying to keep himself from _plummeting_ _to his death._

He was now starting to shiver badly, though Bilbo had half a thought that it was less from cold now and the fact he was possibly going into shock.

Oin tugged lightly on Bilbo’s waistcoat, on his shirt, and Bilbo shrugged away from his hands, batting them away gently, even as Oin huffed over the fact they would have no fire, as it was obvious that at least Bilbo needed it so that he got dry. _Especially_ as Oin was running out of dry cloths to use to dry off his arm, carefully patting the stitches on Bilbo’s arm dry, while Bilbo noticed that Bifur had found flat rocks so that everything could dry, along with tugging a blanket out from his pack.

Bilbo is shivering worse as Oin frowns a bit and Bifur grumbled something lowly in the language Bilbo did not understand that made Gloin frowned at him. “We haven’t _got_ spares, Bifur. The Hobbit should, however, have his own,” Gloin stated.

He lifted his free hand and flickered out, _“I do,”_ realizing they were talking about a spare shirt.

He just didn’t wish to change his shirt with people around. Instead, he waved away Oin’s tugging hands, again, and went over to his pack, taking his sword off before he pulled out a dry shirt. He, somehow, managed to change shirts without scars he did not wish to explain coming to light. He tugged at his shirt until it was tucked in where it needed to be tucked in, though he barely managed and the minute he was, mostly, dry, Bifur shoved the blanket around his shoulders, wrapping it around Bilbo, though helping to keep the left arm clear. Bilbo smiles his thanks and Bifur just gets him back to Oin.

He gets a gentle smack upside the head from Bifur, but the Dwarf doesn’t leave, and Bilbo smiles, but it doesn’t fully reach his eyes, though it is genuine.

Bilbo, distantly, remembered hearing Thorin order Bofur onto first watch, though he did not know who had second, which meant that it was just going to be the three of them.

Oin frowned over the arm, but seemed content enough to wrap it and told him to not put that coat on until it had dried more. Bombur had taken over laying out the wet clothing on the rocks Bifur had growled at, as well as rescuing Bilbo’s bed roll and laid it out where the group was obviously going to be sleeping, Bofur joining them later.

But Bifur isn’t letting him go and settles against the wall, tugging more blankets around Bilbo’s shoulders (because he is shaking and shivering badly) and Bifur has Bilbo settle in front of him, just like Kili has Fili trapped in front of him.

Bilbo’s eyes travel around the cave and he can see where Dori has Ori in much the same position and it is odd to see Ori without his braids, even though most of his hair is loose.

It seemed he wasn’t the only family member being fussed over and it filled him with warmth despite the fact that he still shivered.

Bifur growled something that was probably a slew of curse words, if the way Bombur huffed was any indication, and then Bombur leaned over and closed the blankets more around Bilbo, giving him a look. “You’ll be lucky if Bifur lets you up,” Bombur warned, and Bilbo gives a tiny smile at that, which Bombur returns.

“Why is Bilbo’s hair longer when wet?” Kili suddenly asked and Bilbo looked over Bombur’s shoulder as the cook settled back.

He thought he might have seen the beginnings of a frown on Bombur’s face.

Bilbo resisted the urge to give the young Dwarf a rude gesture and, as his hand didn’t shoot out and do the gesture, he figured he succeeded.

He was distracted from the thought of gesturing rude things at young Dwarves when he felt new twists in the creation of his braids and Bilbo realized that Bifur was doing something new.

He glanced nervously over at Bombur, who was munching on some sort of bread-like thing, but Bombur just gestured that everything would be okay. Bilbo accepted that as the truth, but watched as Bombur shifted so the entirety of his attention was on the pair of young brothers.

To where Kili seemed to still be waiting for an answer, having finished braiding his brother’s hair, though was still wrapped around him, which the elder didn’t seem to mind, oddly enough.

Fili seemed just as curious in fact and Bilbo felt Ori’s gaze on him.

“Ask Bilbo,” Bombur stated calmly.

“But I cammph!” Kili began to retort, but was stopped when Fili reached behind him and covered his mouth.

“Time for sleep,” Fili stated and spun their positions around fast enough to earn a sound of surprise from Kili, who was now pinned to the bedrolls they had already laid out by Fili. They had a small fight, but everyone ignored them, except Bilbo.

Because he knew what Kili was going to say.

_But I can’t understand him._

It took a while for Bilbo to realize that Bifur had made it so that his braids were somehow connected at the nape of his neck, partially said words ringing through his mind.

Bifur seemed happy with his work, his grumblings almost bright, before he carefully wrapped his arms around Bilbo, trapping him against him.

But it was warm and Bilbo had no complaints, especially when he realized Bifur was hugging him, making sure he was still breathing through the layers of blankets shoved around his shoulders.

So Bilbo lifted his hands out of the blanket, shivering at the bite of cold that shot across his arms, to hug Bifur’s arm back. Bifur pat his shoulder and they released each other. Bilbo got up and settled on his bedroll, which was probably going to end up with him between Bombur and Bofur, with Bombur between him and Bifur, who was probably going to remain sitting up to sleep.

He wasn’t too surprised when Bombur gently wrapped an arm around Bilbo and pulled him over slightly so that he was closer.

Bilbo _was_ surprised when Bombur handed him some of the bread substance he had been munching on.

Bilbo had the distinct feeling that Bombur was trying to comfort him, so Bilbo smiled (and again, it did not reach his eyes, in fact, it barely pulled at his lips, and it felt like being in the Shire all over again) and ate it. It was dry, and tasteless, but it at least filled the hole where his belly usually was and Bombur smiled back, urging Bilbo to settle down.

Bilbo shifted a bit and then obeyed, slowly sliding down until he was settled on his bedroll. He didn’t know whose blankets he had, but it was obvious that neither Bifur or Bombur would let him give them up. And he wasn’t shivering as much, and he relaxed into his bedroll, his pack under the blanket to be his pillow.

Eventually, the sound of snoring filled the air.

Bilbo, however, despite feeling warm, now has everything catching up with him. His feet are still numb, numb like they haven’t been since the Fell Winter, and he’s up, barely able to remember how to breathe. He checks his waistcoat and frowns a bit when he finds it dryer then he expected, running a hand along the rock to find it was warm. He tugged it on, buttoning it up before he found his coat, surprised by the warmth that filled his fingers.

He frowned a bit, pressing his hand to the rock, to find it much warmer than the rocks only a few feet away.

He tugged the jacket on, ignoring the shivers that began again, still feeling cold and he considered waking Bombur to ask when he remembered the Bofur was a miner. He quickly put his sword back around his waist and rolled up his bed roll, with the extra blankets, and tightened his pack to his back, grabbing his walking stick and walking to the front.

He frowned a bit when he couldn’t find Bofur, but he shouldn’t have worried. “Bilbo, what are you doing up?” Bofur exclaimed and Bilbo turned with relief to find him, still standing at the entrance.

 _“Well, I couldn’t sleep, but…”_ Bilbo began, but Bofur’s concerned voice interrupts his gestures.

“Whatever do you mean?”

 _“Bofur, lack of sleep talks later. I think there is something wrong,”_ Bilbo explained, because he doesn’t know caves, but he thinks he messed up because his hands are starting to shake, the cold is starting to slip into his bones, but at least no howls, except those caused by the wind outside, echo in his ears.

At least, he thinks it is the wind outside.

But he doesn’t know what to make of the warm rocks, rocks that he doesn’t think were warm earlier, but maybe he’s just more sensitive to it.

Bofur carefully curls his hands over Bilbo’s, however, because now his hands are more shakes than gestures, and _why is his face flushing_? “Easy there Bilbo. Deep breaths now,” Bofur soothed and Bilbo thinks Bofur does this with Bifur when Bifur’s hands stutter and he can’t seem to get the words out.

Bilbo takes deep breaths before he yanks his hands back, ignoring Bofur’s light teasing about needing a cup of tea in his warm Hobbit hole. _“Bofur, I think…”_ he begins again, but Bofur is frowning down at his waist.

“What’s that?” he asked and Bilbo looked down, seeing the blue light spilling from his scabbard.

_The blade glows **blue** when orcs and goblins are near._

Bilbo’s eyes widen in horror as comprehension dawns and, distantly, Bilbo hears Thorin was shouting at them to get up, but Bilbo had a feeling that it was too late.

His thoughts were confirmed as the floor opened up beneath him and, for the second time that night, he was falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Cave scene changed.
> 
> Because he wasn't trying to leave.
> 
> But...yeah...fun moment of the fact he's starting to go through another flashback (though Bofur and everyone was there that, if Goblin Town didn't happen, he probably could have fallen asleep against Bofur and had a rather restful and nightmare-free sleep.)
> 
> For anyone wondering, no, the rocks weren't warm before, or Bifur and Bombur would have said something.
> 
> (Also, this chapter makes me more nervous than writing Thorin, Elladan, and Elrohir combined.)


	26. Third Time is the Charm

Bilbo crashes into the little bowl cage with a soundless cry of pain.

This wasn’t good for anyone. He hoped Bifur’s ax blade wasn’t jostled with all this falling, and he managed to scrabble his way out as the goblins began to flow in. He, once again, didn’t try to draw his blade because he was too close and he feared he would injure his companions, and the Goblins are swarming and taking his pack (unless he lost it, because right now things are going fuzzy around the edges like they did in the Fell Winter right before he sliced the wolf’s throat and that’s a _very_ bad thought to have right now), but his instincts are screaming at him to hide and he drops down, curls over.

He thinks of the mountains and the rock. He thinks of stillness and the way that mountains have roots, but never grow, about how close they are to his home in the Shire, but so distant too, as if two sides of the same coin. And when the last sound of a goblin has left his keen hearing, he slowly uncurls up, standing firmly, not yet having managed to get the ‘stone’ feeling from his bones.

Good to know that ‘hiding’ when needed worked even in unfamiliar territory.

He carefully drew his sword (he needed to learn how to draw it in close quarters, as well as just drawing it on the move) and wonders how close is ‘close’ when the blue glow falls off his sword. He holds it as Fili taught him and keeps his right hand on the pommel, eyes watchful.

When he steps on the shaky bridge, a bat startles and he resists the urge to tense. If he is tense, he won’t move easily.

If he can’t move easily, he’ll end up dead.

He takes another step forward, cautious and then there is a goblin at him.

He takes a little practiced swing, but it is a proper one, but it doesn’t do much as it clashes against the Goblin’s armor and he’s soon fighting for his life, just swinging where he can and then the Goblin is _on_ him and he’s falling back and he thinks the Goblin was trying to _bite_ him, but they are falling.

They separate on the fall, and Bilbo loses his grip on his sword, so it clings down into the darkness.

He decides ‘close’ is quite close indeed and he hits rock, so he scrabbles, or tries to, but he just bashes up his knuckles more.

The fall is chaotic and he thinks that he _lands_ on a rock, his ankle twisting oddly, but he isn’t sure, especially since he hasn’t seemed to be able to _stop_ falling and then his breath is knocked out of him as he lands in something that _gives_ under him.

And all he knows his darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This...this was much shorter then expected.
> 
> So, we all know what is happening next.
> 
> Yay.
> 
> Also...I think I just gave Hobbits some sort of magic in the way I described how they hid.


	27. A Scavenger in the Dark

Bilbo comes to feeling slightly breathless and there is a lot of pain in his left arm and right ankle.

In fact, the only thing that doesn’t really _hurt_ is his head, which is a miracle. He must dearly be blessed not to have some sort of head injury and he privately thanks Yavanna for it. Or maybe, as he is on a mountain, he should thank Aule for looking after him when he’s not safe within Yavanna’s chosen home for them.

He decides to just thank them both and try to figure out where he is in relation to the rest of the Company, though for now he realizes he’s in a pile of mushrooms.

He cannot tell if they are poisonous or not and is about to pull himself out of the mushrooms when he hears something approaching. He tenses slightly, glancing through the mushroom stalks to take in the, hopefully dead, Goblin…and an emaciated _scavenger_ (it is the kindest word that Bilbo can think of) creeps forward. “Oooh, skinny goblinses has fallen down. Barely more than boneses precious, but better than nasty, dry, boneses,” he growled, before he let out a hacking cough that went, _gollum, gollum._

Bilbo stilled and clenched his eyes, turning away when it screeched when the Goblin moved and it took a rock, hitting it in the head.

He was a bit surprised when his movement hadn’t brought the creature over to him and he winced when he heard a dragging sound. He looked over and then, slowly, pulled himself out. He blinked a bit in surprise at all the light and his gaze drifted downwards before he saw the hilt of his sword, adrenaline still pumping through his veins as he registered _danger, danger, danger_ , and he knew he needed to get out of here, fast.

As soon as he even figured out where he was, he would make off and he frowned when he turned the blade over in his hand.

The blue light was still there, so did that mean…

His thoughts were cut off when something _metal_ caught the light. He bent down and began to search through the dirt amongst the rocks, and he tried really hard not to think about what it might besides _dirt_ , and he found himself holding a simple gold ring.

He turned it over in his hand before he, carefully, pocketed it in his waistcoat.

And then there is more screeching from the scavenger, about ‘tricksy food’ and other such things, and the light slowly, slowly, flickers out.

Bilbo’s eyes widen slightly, thankful for the knowledge that when something is _dead_ the blade does not glow, so that at least means that he’ll know when he’s safe from orcs and goblins.

He looks up and begins to make his way forward, noticing his gait that is off, heading towards where the strange scavenger was and found himself on the bank of an underground, stagnant, pool of water.

Large and, quite possibly, very deep.

He’ll avoid that then.

He looked around and saw no less than _three_ paths leading out of here, not including the dead end he had just left. Bilbo looked around, putting his blade away, wondering where the strange being had gone when he heard a sound like a paddle through the water. He turned toward the lake, tense and waiting as a scavenger came out.

So when it suddenly appeared, he turned with a sudden fire, somehow drawing his blade in time for it to rest against the creature’s neck.

“It has an Elvish blade, but it’s not an elfs. What is it, precious?” the scavenger asked and Bilbo felt his eyes widen in fear.

Because he doesn’t think he can remove his eyes from the creature long enough to answer that question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is with these short chapters?
> 
> *headdesks*


	28. Ring of Simple Gold

The being eyed him and gave a nine-toothed smile. “Silents is it? Well…what’s it doing?” the creature asked as Bilbo carefully used his foot to draw a bag and the action of putting a something _into_ the bag.

The creature’s curiosity overwhelmed its desire to eat him, apparently, and Bilbo moved jerkily away as the creature inspected the drawing. Bilbo wasn’t sure why doing that had hurt, but it had, and he just kept his sword pointed warily at the creature. “Bag…Bagginses? What is a Bagginses?” Gollum hissed, because that was the sound it constantly made.

Bilbo nearly rolled his eyes in frusteration, and balanced on his foot before he trailed out, _Hobbit_ , and _Shire_ under it to be clear, hoping that the creature could read, because if not, he was in trouble. And then the creature’s curiosity would run out and then he would have to actually fight the thing.

The creature that seemed thoroughly eager over scurrying over to what else he had done and Bilbo moved around the rock, keeping the sword pointed at it. “Silent Bagginses is a Hobbitses? We’ve never had Hobbitses before. Is it…tasty?” the creature asked and Bilbo shifted his stance, ignoring how that seemed quite difficult and the creature hissed at the sword, reaching into a pocket it had hanging off its…clothing seemed to be a generous word, but one Bilbo would use.

And then it stilled, its eyes widening in _pain_. It looked so lost and it began screaming, screaming about the precious being lost. It searched under bats wings and threw bones, Bilbo barely able to dodge one that flew past his head, but the scavenger was focused so entirely on searching for whatever it had lost that Bilbo barely noticed when he reached into his waistcoat pocket and palmed the ring he had found.

A simple ring of gold.

What was so precious about it?

“What has the _nasty_ Bagginses got in his hand, precious?” the creature hissed and Bilbo’s eyes snapped out, closing his left hand tight around the ring while the right gripped his sword, landing on the creature.

And Bilbo did not hesitate.

He ran.

*~*~*~*

Bilbo never thought he could run so fast in his life, though he stumbled more then he should have, in his opinion.

It didn’t help that he had no idea how to navigate through the paths within the mountains. He could not find the surest paths to the surface, not like he could find his way through a forest to the edge, or ways to navigate his way to being less lost in places filled with ever-growing life.

He clenched his right hand tighter around his blade and turned a corner, listening to the vile creature calling him a thief.

Snarling out things that, really, Bilbo wasn’t going to focus on, because if he did, he would get even more lost then before.

He stumbled down another path, thinking he saw an opening, but found that it was only a narrow opening and one he could not even think to get through, so he started to run back when he saw the Gollum creature rushing past, so he ran back as silently as he could to the narrow opening, trying to slip through, right side first when he got stuck.

Half way through, he continued to try and push, feet scrabbling for purchase to pull him through when Gollum began to slip back to where he was.

Bilbo’s eyes widened in fear and he felt as if his limps could get no lighter, and he continued to try and fight through, continued to try and pull his way through the narrow opening. And the creature, so sure of his meal caught and trapped, slunk towards him. “Nasty little Bagginses. Firsts, we’ll eats him, and _then_ we’ll find the precious,” it hissed and, as the being reached for him, sharp and deadly teeth parting, Bilbo felt his buttons give, much to his surprise, and he hit the ground, left hand flying up and the simple golden ring flying up out of his grip.

He reached for it, momentarily confused when he thought he felt something warm slipping up his arm, and then the ring was caught on his ring finger and circling and…

The minute the simple gold ring was snug on his finger, the world took tones of brown and sounds echoed. He scrambled away in surprise and blinked in surprise as the creature scrambled through easily, looking around before taking off with a screech of rage.

“Must have gone this way, precious!” it screamed and began to run.

And Bilbo scrambled to his feet before taking off after Gollum.

He followed, on edge, somehow managing to keep on his feet, terrified that he would slip and alert the creature that he was being followed, not following.

But whoever was watching him (Bilbo was still torn over it being Aule while not in a place of Yavanna’s reach, or Yavanna, able to look into a place of her husband’s touch, or the pair of them together) was guiding his steps and keeping him steady.

He continued to listen to the creature hiss about what he would do to Bilbo once he found him, and calling for the precious, the lost precious, and Bilbo was starting to think that the gold ring, no longer so simple, was it.

Which meant that when Gollum had been reaching for it, he had, most likely, wanted to use it so that he could get around Bilbo’s sword and kill Bilbo. Bilbo, who hadn’t _meant_ to take it, he had _found_ it.

So he ignored the being’s words and focused on following after the creature when it leapt into what could only be a sunny corridor.

Bilbo felt his heart lighten at the sigh when suddenly Gollum scrambled back, and Bilbo saw the Company, with Gandalf in the lead, rushing past. Bilbo began to rush forward, when he saw Gollum crouched there. He watched with growing fear as the Company continued to file past.

He walked forward bringing his arm back to strike Gollum down, when it…he turned with eyes wide.

 _He_ , Gollum, looked back and looked so _lost_.

Bilbo stared down into those eyes, those shaking, tear-filled eyes, and found he could not do it.

He could not kill this being before him.

He backed up slightly and resheathed his sword, and that was enough to garner Gollum’s attention, but Bilbo was already running and leaping over, kicking Gollum in the face, stumbling slightly before he tore off into the light, stumbling and rushing down the hill after the Company.

He had a family to check up on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
> I wanted to do riddles so _badly_ , but I couldn't figure out how to make it work.
> 
> Because I _love_ the riddles scene!
> 
> And I couldn't find a way to do it.
> 
> *sobs in a corner*


	29. The Flames That Climb Into the Night

Bilbo let out a low heave as he hit the tree, though not as hard as it could be.

“Where’s Bilbo? Where’s your Hobbit?” Gandalf demanded.

There were shouts, blaming, Nori saying he saw Bilbo slip away when they were captured by the goblins, which almost made Bilbo pull off his ring, step out, when Thorin growled, “He’s abandoned us, for his home and hearth.”

It struck Bilbo straight into the heart and he panted softly as he leaned against the tree, slowly coming off his adrenaline high, listening to Thorin state that he shouldn’t have come in the first place. About the how all he thought of was home, and the fact was, Bilbo had not really thought of the Shire, except distantly, since Bifur had enfolded him into his family.

And then Bilbo slipped off his ring, stepped around the tree, and licked his lips, before he whistled, loud and sharp, drawing their attention.

“Bilbo!” Bofur exclaimed, moving forward a bit, a smile of relief on his face, and the only thing that kept Bilbo for jumping down and running to them was the fact he was starting to feel a little light-headed.

“Bilbo, we thought you were lost!” Fili continued and Bilbo shook his head a bit, stopping when he realized that was a bad idea, before he gave a small shrug.

“How did you escape?” Kili asked and Bilbo nervously slipped the ring away, unsure of how to explain his encounter with Gollum.

“What does it matter? He’s here now,” Gandalf answered and Bilbo gave him a grateful smile.

He would explain, later.

“It is important,” Thorin snarled.

“Why did you come back?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo felt his heart twist and he began to sign.

And Gandalf translated.

_“I know you don’t believe in me. And I know you never have. And…I miss my books, I miss my chair…I miss my mother’s china and her doilies. Because, that’s…that is something that I miss. Something to go back for. But you don’t have that, you don’t have a place to call home. It was stolen from you, taken. And I may not be much, but I will help you take it back, if I can. Because everyone deserves a place to call their own.”_

Silence fell over the clearing, the sun at the horizon, and Bifur moved forward, as if to help him down (or smack him upside the head, though he really hoped not; that lightheadedness was getting worse) when a howl ripped through the air and his heart rate shot up, and all he could think about was _winter_ and _cold_ and _snow._

“Out of the frying pan,” Thorin said.

“And into the fire. Run!” Gandalf shouted and Bilbo took off, Bofur grabbing his arm and _hauling_ , as if scared he would be lost.

And they did, in fact, run. Down the hill once more and there was another howl, Bofur releasing Bilbo’s arm to shift his mattock into both hands and slam it into a warg’s head and Bilbo managed to draw his sword, but his left hand had some trouble gripping…just in time for a warg to crash into the blade, Bilbo panting softly as he stared at the body before him.

“To the trees!” Gandalf shouted and Bilbo immediately focused on trying to pull his sword out of the warg’s skull. He felt his left arm shaking and, finally, it slid free, sending him stumbling into the tree behind him and he rushed forward, looking back in time to see the wargs with orcs rushing down the hill.

He returned his sword to his scabbard and jumped, swinging up and into the trees, quickly settling amongst the branches, Dori at his left shoulder as he stared down below at the wargs and orcs, before his eyes landed on the pale orc.

Bilbo clings to the tree and he has some trouble breathing as fear grips his heart, watching as the wargs rush forward, trying to leap into the trees after the Pale Orc snarls something at them in some language Bilbo doesn’t understand. He clings to the tree as the warg hits it and the warg snarls, jaws snapping. They eventually walk away with a growl and the Pale Orc shouts another command, causing them to start _slamming_ against the trees. Bilbo clings and, as the tree begins to fall, he jumps to the next.

The wargs chase them, the Pale Orc shouting at them and Bilbo finds himself jumping to the next all the faster then before, until he’s clinging to the last tree, Kili over his right side, clinging tightly to the tree. The light-headedness was starting to come back and it was hurting to breathe when suddenly Kili is shoving a pinecone into his hand and then it is being light on fire by the burning pinecone in Kili’s hand and Bilbo throws it with deadly accuracy, hitting one of the wargs in the head before it bounced off, setting the dry brush on fire and driving the wargs back.

The Pale Orc snarled and shouted at them, while Bilbo smiled…just in time for the tree to start falling backwards and off the cliff. Bilbo clung and, when the tree crashed onto the stone, he felt the breath driven from his body, the ache intensifying around his rib cage, and he looked up to see Thorin standing, light by the flames…and charging. Bilbo stared in surprise and slight horror as Thorin clashed with the Pale Orc.

The Pale Orc on his Pale Warg!

Had Thorin lost all sense?

He was fighting two enemies at once! Was he mad?

But all of this was swamped away in his horror as he began mentally screaming for Yavanna, for Aule, either of them, to save Thorin, and then Thorin fell. Bilbo pulled himself up as the Pale Orc gave an order and he’s gripping his sword tight in his hand (he’s not sure which, he’s sort-of just…focused), because he knows that without Thorin, there will be no Quest.

If Thorin falls, they _will_ fail and Bilbo cannot allow that to happen.

These Dwarves _deserve_ a home and so long as he draws breathe, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire is going to do everything in his power to do just that.

He runs forward, ignoring how his steps are a bit off and then he’s tackling the orc and stabbing it viciously, insuring that it cannot harm Thorin before he is up and standing between Thorin and the Pale Orc.

Bilbo holds his sword, right hand on the pommel, noticing a slight shake to the blade, but he does not care.

He will be a warg’s meal before he allows the Pale Orc to lay his claw on Thorin again.

It seems that is where he will end up as well and he tightens his grip on his sword, distantly registering a spike of pain. He stands, like a mouse before the champion mouser, and does not flinch at the cruel smirk that curls across the Pale Orcs face as the Pale Warg begins to stalk forward, growling lowly.

And then there are Dwarven war cries and those that can have charged into the fray, through the flames (did he run through those?) and they crash upon the orcs and wargs like waves upon the sand, scattering them. The Pale Orc snarls and turns his attention away from Bilbo, his warg snarling as well.

Bilbo stood in shock, but did not move from his spot of defense from Thorin, though he was sure he would be rather useless, when shrieks of eagles cut through the air. They swooped down, grabbing orcs and wargs to toss them over the edge of the cliff or driving flames towards them further breaking the line apart, scattering and dividing them.

The Pale Orc is obviously enraged and turns furious eyes to where Thorin lays, obviously enraged that Thorin has escaped his grasp once more as he is driven back by Eagles and flames.

There is nothing for Bilbo to do as he watches the Eagles swoop around and he twists as he hears one call and watches as the Eagle lands, sort-of, and grips Thorin, and Orcist, into his talons before beating his wings, taking off once more.

Bilbo turns around in enough time to see an Eagle coming for him. He lets out a long suffering sigh and barely manages to keep ahold of his sword as he is grasped in talons and he thinks they jar something and then he’s falling _again_ , and he’s getting rather sick of all this falling, landing on the back of an Eagle…alone.

He looks around desperately, but Fili’s anguished scream of, _“Thorin!”_ cuts through everything and Bilbo twists back around and, for the second time in Bilbo’s life, the Hobbit of the Shire fears he may have been too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hums nervously*
> 
> So...this is being split into three parts, like the movies.
> 
> *hides*


	30. The Distant Lonely Mountain

Bilbo watched as they flew until the dawn, his Eagle landing gently as he could, leaning down slightly so Bilbo could slide off, separate from the group and he stumbled a bit as he landed on his right foot, taking a step forward, taking shallow breaths, because his fear for Thorin wasn’t chasing away his pain, entirely, anymore.

His ribs were twinging.

He thinks it might be the Eagles’ fault.

Yes, Thorin hated him, Thorin despised him and, really, Bilbo could see why. What did he have to offer this Company?

He stood there as Gandalf leaned over Thorin, feeling that lightheadedness come back, as he watched Thorin suddenly shift, gasping, and, the most unexpected reached Bilbo’s ears. “The Halfling?”

Bilbo flinched back slightly, unsteady on his feet, and feeling the rising sun pour over the top of this flat rock thing. He has no idea what to call it and Thorin is shoving off the Dwarves as he stands and fixes his piercing gaze on Bilbo, who already shrinks away from it slightly. “You! What were you thinking?” he demanded.

“You could have been killed!” Thorin snarled and Bilbo wants to take a step back, wants to get away from Thorin, but he is rooted to the spot, feeling like a sapling in a gale.

He is not able to move, but he may get uprooted and he wants to cover his ears, but he is frozen. “Did I not say that you would be a burden?” Thorin snarled, still coming forward, and Bilbo, distantly, thinks he hears a scuffle, but he cannot look away from Thorin’s heavy gaze.

“That you would not survive in the wild and that you have no place amongst us?” Thorin snapped and Bilbo knew he was shrinking in on himself, trying to hide, but there was _nowhere_ to hide now and suddenly Thorin shifted.

“I have never been so wrong in my whole life,” Thorin stated and suddenly hugged Bilbo.

Bilbo who stilled, frozen in surprise before he relaxed into the hug, carefully hugging Thorin back, unable to see the Company, and…oh, ow.

Thorin is kind-of hugging him hard, and that was putting pressure on bruises he was sure and then Thorin carefully released him, resting hands on his shoulders. “Forgive me for doubting you,” Thorin stated and Bilbo nodded.

 _“I would have doubted me too,”_ he signed and frowned a bit at his left hand when it didn’t do the gesture right.

Oh, his arm was kind-of hurting.

He let out an exhale of surprise as Thorin suddenly turned him around and Bilbo’s eyes fell on the Lonely Mountain. Gandalf moved forward then and Bilbo was starting to _really_ feel light-headed now.

Twirling was really bad.

“And there lies our destination. Erebor, the last of the great Dwarven kingdoms,” Gandalf stated and Bilbo stared at the way it jutted out of the distant mists, like a marking.

“Our home,” Thorin intoned and Bilbo glanced at him before looking back with a small smile gracing his features.

“Look, a raven!” Dori exclaimed.

“That, Master Dori, is a _thrush_ ,” Gandalf corrected lightly.

“We’ll take it as a good omen then,” Thorin responded and Bilbo felt a gaze, heavy on him and he shifted, feeling tired, and he realized that they were _safe._

He let out a low sigh of relief, feeling his tension leave with him.

Just in time for agony to take its place.

He inhaled sharply, which only made his ribcage _burn_ , and his left arm was just on _fire_ , while his right ankle could no longer support his weight.

In fact, neither could the rest of him, because he’s pretty sure he’s falling again, and he thinks, maybe, someone is calling his name in a panic as he fell, for a sixth time, but this time from no great height.

This time, Bilbo Baggins fell unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone, please remember...
> 
> If you kill me, there will be no Part 2.
> 
> Especially since it might be some time before Part 2, Chapter 1, comes out.
> 
> *goes to cower in fear while writing Chapter 1*

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Grief as Deep as Moria](https://archiveofourown.org/works/646582) by [Moon_Rose (Moonrose91)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moon_Rose)




End file.
